


Unexpected

by gonnapop



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Growing Old Together, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Old Married Couple, Pregnancy, Skywalker Family Drama, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 60,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonnapop/pseuds/gonnapop
Summary: After twenty years together, Ben and Armitage have gotten comfortable. There are no surprises left in their marriage, and nothing new to learn about each other.That is, until Armitage unexpectedly goes into heat while they’re vacationing on a resort world — and a few days of renewed passion changes the course of their lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this prompt](https://kyluxhardkink.tumblr.com/post/173302584380/old-men-abo-kylux-your-choice-who-is-what) on kyluxhardkink. I knew I wanted to write something for this scenario, beyond a pwp, but it took until now for me to develop a concept that I really liked.
> 
>  **on abo dynamics:** in this au, female omegas have a vagina and corresponding internal reproductive system; male omegas have a penis, no external testes, a vagina, and an internal reproductive system. male alphas have a penis and testes; female alphas have a penis, testes, vagina, and all the internal goods.
> 
> while female alphas are much more likely to impregnate someone else than to conceive, omega males are the opposite. (the key anatomical difference between an omega male and an alpha female is the presence of testes and the ability to knot.)
> 
> generally, betas have either a penis and testes, or a vagina and internal reproductive system. they experience neither heat nor rut.
> 
> for simplicity’s sake, I use terms like “male” and “female” to describe this abo world—but in a universe where intersex conditions are commonplace and unremarkable, I imagine gender wouldn’t be closely tied to anatomy in most human cultures.
> 
> also, gender identity and alpha/beta/omega status exist independently of each other: while abo designations are assigned at birth and don’t change, gender is considered fluid and changeable. gender is determined by the individual, rather than assigned.
> 
>  **content warnings:** alpha/beta/omega dynamics; explicit references to dfab anatomy (including words like “cunt”); piv sex; unplanned (male) pregnancy; discussion of miscarriage/previous pregnancy loss; discussion of abortion.
> 
> I understand that this may not work for all readers. I want to minimize the chances of someone being inadvertently triggered while reading, so please mind the tags, consider how they might interact with your own triggers/sensitivities/preferences, and read safely.

It was the perfect start to their vacation, Ben thought, as he and Armitage clinked their glasses together: lunch at a bistro overlooking a black sand beach, which glittered faintly under Baralou’s single white sun. He had a good feeling about this.

Across from him, Armitage was eating a bowl of nyork chowder, slowly, no doubt contemplating how it might have been prepared. Just the sight of him was distracting to Ben: A well-preserved forty-nine, Armitage’s hair had gone tastefully silver at the temples, though the rest was the same burnished copper color that Ben remembered from their youth, and which their two children had inherited.

Twenty years, and Ben still wasn’t tired of looking at him.

“Ben,” Armitage said after a while, glancing across the table, as if sensing Ben’s gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. Check out the lovebirds,” Ben said, nodding toward a nearby table, where a pair of Twi’lek women sat close together, speaking softly. They were practically nuzzling, their faces extremely close, hands clasped on the table.

Twisting around briefly in his seat, Armitage got a look at them. “They must’ve just met,” he said after a moment, turning back to Ben. “Spontaneous first vacation.”

Ben shook his head, sipping his cometduster. The drink made the inside of his mouth tingle pleasantly. “No dice—they’re married.”

“To each other? Doubtful,” Armitage said with a scoff. “They’re sitting on the same side of the table. Married people don’t do that. People having an affair, maybe.”

“Matching wedding bands,” Ben told him. “Look again.”

Armitage glanced over his shoulder, squinting because he’d forgotten his glasses in the hotel room (and refused to switch to contact lenses or have his vision corrected surgically, no matter how often Ben told him he should). He huffed quietly when he recognized the delicate silver bands the women wore on their lekku. “Honeymoon, then,” he said decisively. “That explains it.”

“How can you even talk to the other person like that?” Ben asked, still studying the Twi’lek couple. “You have to crane your neck. It looks uncomfortable.”

“Showoffs. I’m glad we were never that obnoxious,” Armitage said primly, before taking a dignified sip of his Bespin Breeze.

Ben snorted. “I’m not sure you remember our honeymoon. We weren’t exactly subtle.”

In fact, Ben distinctly recalled going shirtless as much as possible during their time on Cantonica, and wearing wide-necked tunics the rest of the time, for the express purpose of showing off the bond mark at the juncture of his throat and shoulder. (Armitage’s mark was in a more private place, which other vacationers were unlikely to see, unless they looked closely.) He also remembered pawing at Armitage in public, in a way that could be considered indecent, mostly because Armitage enjoyed it so much.

“The resort was a little like this one,” Armitage said thoughtfully. He glanced across the table at Ben. “Is that why you chose it?”

“It seemed fitting.” Ben had considered planning another trip to Cantonica, actually, but ultimately decided that they should go someplace they’d never been, even if they were trying to recapture the feelings of their honeymoon. “We’re coming up on twenty years, after all.”

Armitage hummed. “A nice touch,” he said. “Stars, I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

A tropical world, Baralou was mostly water, dotted here and there with island chains that rose defiantly above storm-tossed oceans. Because the planet was uncommonly rich in minerals and gemstones, deep-sea mining had become one of its biggest industries, along with tourism. According to their seventeen-year-old son, Teo, a budding botanist, the planet’s native fruits and vegetables bore traces of poison that affected most alien species.

Armitage thought that made Baralou a rather unusual vacation hotspot, but Ben understood the appeal: There was something romantic about the whiff of danger associated with Baralou. A little excitement would be good for them, he thought.

Normally, they took vacations as a family of four. But this time, Ben suggested that he and Armitage go away together for once, just the two of them, while the kids visited their aunts Rey and Rose. (Teo was a little put out by this—he’d wanted to see the poisonous plants—but he perked up considerably when Rey promised to let him fly the _Falcon_.)

Armitage had hemmed and hawed for ages before agreeing to go. A two-week vacation was extravagantly long, in his opinion; being unable to micromanage the day-to-day operations of First Order Catering for two full weeks would be difficult for him. Still, at last, he relented (after Ben enlisted their daughter, Poppy, who told him gravely that he needed a vacation).

He really did, Ben thought, for reasons beyond mere relaxation. Teo was about to enter his last year at Brionelle Memorial Academy, one of Chandrila’s best private schools. He was talking about university applications, and all the schools he wanted to attend were halfway across the galaxy. No matter how Armitage hinted and wheedled, Teo wasn’t considering any universities on Chandrila.

They always knew that Teo would leave home eventually, of course. But it was becoming real now, and Ben could tell that it was affecting Armitage. When they talked about Teo’s plans, he seemed full of a kind of anticipatory grief. It seemed like yesterday that Teo was a little boy. Where did the time go?

It didn’t help that Poppy had recently turned fourteen and was excited for her first year at Brionelle. A few short years from now, she would leave home, too, and Ben sensed that Armitage would have an even harder time letting go of her. She was his baby.

Ben sympathized. He had semi-retired from professional racing after Teo was born; the plan was always for Armitage to return to work while Ben stayed home to care for the children. No nanny droids. No daycare. Though he still competed a few times a year and worked for Han’s shipping company off-and-on, Ben’s primary job for the last seventeen years was looking after the kids.

In truth, as much as he told Armitage not to stress about what their lives would be like once the kids were grown, Ben was a little worried himself. Armitage had a career that meant something to him. A passion. What did Ben have? It was hard to picture the shape of his days when they weren’t structured around Poppy and Teo—but he was trying.

Maybe he would go back to racing; even over forty, he still had the reflexes for it. Maybe he would take over Han’s shipping company, which the old man had been hinting at for years (though any of his protégées would probably do a better job). Maybe he would do nothing at all, except meditate and practice katas and wait for Armitage to come home, like some kind of trophy husband. Eventually, he’d have to decide.

Ben planned this trip largely to give himself and Armitage a taste of what their lives would be like in the not-so-distant future, to help them get used to the idea. He wanted to remind both of them that they had another stage of life to look forward to, even as they enjoyed these last few years with the kids at home.

It would be different, sure. There would be an adjustment period. But for the first time in decades, they would have the time and space to focus exclusively on each other. Ben assured himself it would be a good thing, and he wanted to prove it to his mate.

After arriving on Baralou yesterday evening, local time, they were only now beginning to explore the seaside town beyond the resort. Ben had purposefully left their schedule open, unstructured, so they would be free to see and do whatever they liked.

As the afternoon wore on, however, Ben noticed that Armitage was becoming increasingly crabby. He seemed restless, disinterested in their surroundings.

“Can we go somewhere less crowded?” Armitage asked at one point, as they were walking along a boardwalk that teemed with people, most of them xenos. He was pressed oddly close to Ben’s side, one arm clamped around his waist.

“It’s tourist season,” Ben reminded him. “Everywhere’s crowded.”

“Maybe you should’ve considered that before booking the trip,” Armitage muttered.

Ben frowned. He’d assumed at first that traveling had put Armitage in a bad mood, or the time difference was catching up to him—but no, he thought now. He knew his mate well enough to recognize that this was something else. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did the nyork chowder not agree with you?”

“The food was fine,” Armitage said irritably.

“Come on, work with me here,” Ben insisted. The more irascible Armitage became, the more Ben wanted to solve the problem. It was a protective instinct, frustrating but familiar. The mate bond made them both feel powerful urges sometimes. “Are you getting sick?”

Armitage rolled his eyes. “No, Ben, I’m not getting sick—”

“Your face is flushed.”

“Because I’m boiling in this heat. Aren’t you?”

“Not really.” It was balmy, a warm wind blowing off the blue-green sea, but certainly not hot enough for Armitage to look as red and sweaty as he did. He reached for his mate’s forehead, to check his temperature. “Are you having a hot flash or something?”

Scowling, Armitage swatted his hand away. “I most certainly am not,” he snapped.

Armitage went through “the change of life,” as he delicately called it, years ago. He had stopped using suppressants and hormonal birth control at forty-five, after noticing some changes in his body that suggested he might be approaching menopause. When he did not go into heat for a full year, his doctor determined that he was no longer fertile.

It was rough for a while: insomnia, hot flashes, mood swings. Armitage’s libido plummeted; they’d never needed to use so much lubricant before, and sex was occasionally uncomfortable for him, even painful. Some nights, he drenched the bed sheets in sweat. But in time, the symptoms evened out, and by now, Armitage and Ben were both used to this new normal.

In the end, they went back to the hotel earlier than they’d originally planned and ordered room service. Armitage barely touched his food, and he was beginning to complain of body aches, but there were no accompanying chills.

Ben touched the back of his hand to Armitage’s cheek, frowning. “You feel feverish,” he said. “I really think you’re coming down with something.”

“Oh, maybe,” Armitage said at last, sounding defeated. He slumped a little lower on the sofa.

“If you’re not feeling well, then we can—”

“Don’t say it. We’re not canceling the trip when we’ve only just arrived,” Armitage said firmly. “It’s already paid for.”

“There’s no point in staying if you’re not going to enjoy yourself,” Ben pointed out.

Armitage waved away his concerns. “It’s probably some kind of twenty-four hour bug,” he said. “Give me a day to get over it. That’s all I’m asking.”

Somewhat grudgingly, Ben agreed.

 

***

 

They went to bed early. It didn’t take long to fall asleep: Ben was tired from traveling, and Armitage was worn out by whatever illness was working through his system. Both of them were lulled by the distant rushing of the sea.

Ben woke sometime after midnight. Beside him, Armitage was like a furnace, shifting uncomfortably, sweating through his nightclothes.

In the cool darkness of the bedroom, Ben was keenly aware of the smell of Armitage’s sweat: musky, with a sweetness that he associated with his mate. It made his head swim, but he wasn’t sure why he was so affected.

When Ben switched on the bedside lamp, he saw that Armitage was flushed, the hollow of his throat shining with sweat. His eyes looked dark and liquid in the soft yellow light, unfocused. Ben hauled himself out of bed, pulled on yesterday’s clothes, and went in search of a pharmacy.

It took him the better part of an hour to find one that was open all night, where a glassy-eyed Besalisk sold him some fever-reducing medicine.

If Armitage did not improve by morning, Ben decided on the walk back to the hotel, they’d just have to cut the vacation short and return home. He didn’t like the idea of his mate being ill on a strange planet.

As he let himself back into the suite, crumpled pharmacy bag in hand, he stumbled a little over the threshold as the smell hit him like a punch to the chest, then instinctively shoved the door closed behind him. Armitage’s scent had permeated the entire suite, thick and heavy and unmistakable. Already Ben’s pulse was kicking up in response; he knew what that smell meant.

Armitage was still in the bed where Ben had left him, on his side, breathing heavily, but he’d peeled off his sweat-soaked undershirt and possibly his underwear as well. The sheets were tangled around his bare legs.

When he heard Ben’s footsteps, Armitage pushed himself up onto his elbows, and looked at him with glassy, needful eyes. “Ben,” he said. “I don’t feel right.”

Ben hesitated in the doorway. “You smell like…” He swallowed, with effort, trying not to inhale too deeply. “You smell like you’re in heat.”

“I’m not. I can’t be,” Armitage said immediately. He was red-faced, flushed along his throat, all the way to his chest. “I haven’t had a heat in fifteen years.”

That was true. At least, it was supposed to be. Armitage went back on suppressants as soon as Poppy was weaned, and continued to use them until his doctor determined that he’d reached menopause. He was no longer fertile.

But whatever they’d been told, Ben could sense Armitage’s whole body throbbing in time with his pulse. He was sweating, flushed, pupils blown. And Ben’s body was beginning to respond, too: his cock already half-hard, just at the sight of his mate.

“I know what your heat smells like,” Ben said, suddenly aware of his mouth filling with saliva. Kriff, he was practically drooling. He tossed the pharmacy bag onto a side table and approached the bed, step by step.

“I’m not in heat,” Armitage said again, adamantly.

“Here, just let me…” Ben pulled the sheets back and found that Armitage had, indeed, stripped naked in his absence, likely in a frustrated effort to cool off. He reached between Armitage’s legs and found him so wet that even his inner thighs were slick. It was the copious, sweet-smelling fluid he only produced while he was in heat; Ben was tempted to put his fingers to his mouth and suck them clean. “Shit. Armitage—”

“Don’t say it,” Armitage said, almost pleading, even as he spread his thighs at Ben’s touch, exposing his cunt a little. “Oh, kriff.”

Despite his obvious arousal, Ben saw that Armitage’s small cock was soft—another sign that this was a true heat. It had to do with hormones, as Ben understood it; until the heat subsided, Armitage’s penis would be basically extraneous.

“You’re in heat,” Ben told him again, dizzily. He was fully hard now, just from brushing against Armitage’s wet thighs, like some teenager who’d never popped a knot. He hadn’t felt like this in years. Decades. “We should—”

Armitage suppressed a whine. “We can’t,” he said. “I could get pregnant.”

“I didn’t mean sex,” Ben lied. There was a dull throbbing at his temples. He couldn’t get enough air. “We should go home.”

“You think I can travel like this?” Armitage sounded a little hysterical. “In an enclosed space, with you, for three days?”

Right, Ben thought. Bad idea. They would be fucking urgently within an hour, which they needed to avoid at all costs, because of the terrifying possibility that Armitage might become pregnant during this heat.

Armitage was right: He was in no condition to travel, and the heat would be over by the time they got back to Chandrila. There was only one thing to do.

“We just have to wait it out.” Ben forced himself to swallow. “I should go.”

“Yes,” Armitage said, though he looked pained at the prospect of his mate leaving him right now. “That’s a good idea.”

Ben staggered into the sitting room, shutting the bedroom door behind him, feeling too large for his skin. He had a vague idea to sleep on the sofa—but even if his mate’s scent hadn’t permeated the whole suite, he would’ve been too wired to doze off.

For an hour, he paced restlessly, breathing in Armitage’s smell and listening to his muffled whimpers through the wall. When it became unbearable, Ben went for a walk.

He wandered for what felt like hours, passing cantinas and all-night diners and darkened, shuttered storefronts. The night air felt wonderfully cool on his hot face; the wind blowing off the sea helped to clear his head. Now, at least, he understood why he’d felt so protective of Armitage today: His body recognized that his mate was going into heat and responded in kind. It also explained why Armitage was so irritable, not wanting to be in crowded places, clinging to him.

As he walked, Ben felt weakened somehow, bruised on the inside. The same instincts that urged him to take care of Armitage earlier today now demanded that he return to his suffering mate and ease his discomfort the only way he knew how. And, stars, Ben wanted to.

As the sky was beginning to lighten, Ben returned to the hotel. Physically, it would be easier for him to stay away—but he’d heard of omegas who became sick when they went untouched during their heats, fainting or vomiting or worse. Ben couldn’t leave his mate like that. Armitage might need him to fetch a bucket or a cool cloth, if nothing else.

He half-expected to find Armitage taking a cold shower, or smoking on the balcony in the predawn light, where it would be cooler. (Officially, Armitage quit smoking before he became pregnant with Teo, but very rarely, when stressed, he slipped off to sneak a cigarette. Ben pretended not to know.) But he was in the bedroom: Ben could hear his soft, pained noises.

Steeling himself, Ben opened the door—and there was his mate, splayed out across the rumpled bed on his back, four fingers deep inside his cunt. His other hand was desperately rubbing at his clit. Armitage was red-faced and grimacing, spine arched, squirming, like he couldn’t quite get the angle he needed.

Though he was otherwise occupied, Armitage noticed Ben right away. He’d probably caught his mate’s scent, senses heightened by the heat. Armitage pushed himself upright immediately.

Unthinking, Ben crossed the room in a few long strides, reaching for him; the smell of his sweat was overwhelming. They crashed together at the foot of the bed, all mouths and hands and teeth. Armitage’s skin was hot under Ben’s hands.

“We shouldn’t.” Ben struggled to get the words out, between kisses. “What if—”

“I don’t care,” Armitage panted, clawing at Ben in an effort to get his shirt off. “Please, Ben, I feel like I’m dying—”

“Kriff—” Ben felt the same way. He didn’t want to say no anymore.

In his haste to undress and clamber onto the bed, he almost tripped over his own pants. Meanwhile, Armitage rolled onto his knees with a grateful noise, spreading his legs.

Ben could see how wet he was, how red, like a slice of fruit. Stars, he wanted to drown himself in Armitage’s sweet-smelling cunt—but that wasn’t what his mate needed now. He gripped Armitage’s hips and lined himself up.

Armitage made a noise like a wounded animal when Ben pushed inside. There was no need to prepare him: His cunt was slick and hot and devouring, already loosened by his own desperate fingers. It had been years since it felt like this, molten; Ben had almost forgotten.

As Ben began to rock his hips, Armitage was nearly sobbing with pleasure and relief, his face half-turned into the mattress. “Oh, stars,” he moaned, like the words were being pushed out of him with each thrust. “You’d better not get me pregnant—”

“That’s not really something I can control,” Ben grunted, his eyes fluttering briefly closed as Armitage clenched around him.

“I can’t have another baby, Ben, I can’t, it’ll kill me—” He broke off with a wail as Ben hauled his legs apart even wider.

Soon they fell into an urgent rhythm that made the mattress creak steadily. Armitage pushed back to meet Ben’s thrusts, urgently, as if to take him deeper. The only other noises were grunts and gasps and the slapping of skin.

They both cried out when the knot popped; Ben felt Armitage clench around him, silken and exquisitely tight. And then he was coming, pulse after pulse, deep inside his mate.

Somewhere outside, over the ocean, the sun was coming up.

 

***

 

Midmorning found Ben stretched out on the mattress between Armitage’s thighs, licking his own come out of his mate’s cunt. The lower half of his face was slick; above him, Armitage gasped and moaned softly, one hand absently petting Ben’s hair.

Ben lifted his face enough to study Armitage. The sunlight streaming through the window turned his hair to copper; his eyes were half-closed, in pleasure or delirium. Each freckle scattered across his creamy skin stood out in perfect clarity, along with the silvery stretch marks on his thighs and hips and belly. From this angle, Ben could enjoy the gentle curves of his barely-there breasts; his nipples were reddened and puffy from Ben’s earlier attentions.

Armitage’s bond mark was on his inner thigh, near the crease of his leg. He had guided Ben between his legs on the night of their mating, one hand tangled in Ben’s hair, whispering encouragement. Ben had kissed and licked the spot for a long time before he found the courage to bite; he would never forget the ectatic noise Armitage made when he broke the skin.

Ben sucked a bruise over the mark now, laving it with his tongue. The taste of his mate’s skin was intoxicating, just as it was twenty years ago. Meanwhile, he slipped two fingers inside of Armitage, which made him gasp, needy.

It was an easy slide: warm and wet. “Oh, kriff,” Ben breathed, moving his lips against Armitage’s stiff clit as he spoke, gently scissoring his fingers. He could sense his mate’s desire sharpening again; he wanted to be filled. “You’re so open. I could knot you with my fist—”

“Ben—”

“I bet I could fuck you with my whole arm—” He barely knew what he was saying.

Armitage whined. “I want your cock,” he said, panting. “I need it. Ben, please—”

In response, Ben gripped Armitage by the thighs and hauled his legs over his shoulders. When he sucked the stiff clit into his mouth, Armitage nearly screamed, spine arching, digging his heels into Ben’s back. It wasn’t long before Ben felt his mate pulsing and fluttering against his mouth.

While Armitage was still pliant from the orgasm, Ben turned him over, maneuvering him into the breeding posture that Ben sensed his body craved. Through the Force, he felt Armitage’s brain light up with interest, felt the sheer shared relief when Ben mounted him again.

 

***

 

It was hard to keep track of time in the throes of heat. Moments bled together. A few times, after the knot subsided, they fell into a restless sleep, which lasted only as long as it took for Armitage’s need to sharpen again. Suddenly Ben looked up and the sky was the same color as the bruises he’d sucked into his mate’s skin.

Staying fed and hydrated was important during a heat, but Ben hadn’t thought about sustenance before he tumbled into bed with Armitage. It was a miscalculation that he couldn’t fully correct, because he couldn’t possibly order anything to the room with the two of them in their current state.

At least they had leftovers from last night’s dinner, as well as bottled drinks and small instant meal packs in the minifridge. It was convenient: Once Ben popped the tab on the container, the food heated instantly.

Trimpian was an easy-to-eat finger food with much-needed protein, while panna cakes drenched in Akivan honey were satisfying enough to stave off hunger. Hormone-addled as he was, Armitage was more interested in tasting Ben’s skin than he was in any food, but he proved willing to eat directly from Ben’s hand, sucking his fingers clean after. Over several hours, Ben also coaxed him into drinking a few cups of vitajuice.

At one point, feeling inspired, Ben poured a measure of honey over his own chest and let Armitage lick it off his skin while he sat astride him, riding Ben slowly. If nothing else, Ben thought, it would keep his blood sugar stable.

When they kissed, Armitage tasted like honey.

 

***

 

The heat lasted thirty hours or so, by Ben’s count, during which they never got far from the bed. By the time it was over, they were both exhausted, and a little embarrassed: sweaty, sticky, famished. The little morsels they’d eaten and snatches of sleep they’d stolen weren’t enough.

Ben ordered room service and found a pair of sweatpants, so he would be halfway decent when the service droid arrived. Meanwhile, after pulling on a robe, Armitage stripped the ruined sheets off the bed and called for a housekeeping droid. Then he disappeared into the refresher.

“Ben?” Armitage called, after a little while. “Are you coming?”

For a moment, Ben hesitated. He’d assumed Armitage would want a little time to himself, after disentangling himself from Ben. Still, he left the droid to its work and walked into the rather opulent refresher, which boasted a separate shower and bathtub.

The air was thick with fragrant steam, and panels built into the walls glowed softly, simulating candlelight. In the middle of the room was an enormous bathtub, made of translucent white Wayland marble, threaded through with gold veins, equipped with jets that Ben had thought would appeal to Armitage when he booked the suite.

Sure enough, he was right: Armitage was in the tub, up to his chest in cloudy, faintly steaming water. “You’re filthy,” Armitage said, beckoning. “Get in.”

The tub was more than big enough for the two of them to sit comfortably, facing each other, legs stretched out. Though Ben climbed in carefully, some of the water sloshed over the side, onto the white marble tiles. Armitage gestured for him to lean forward, and he did, closing his eyes and letting Armitage pour water over his head.

For a few minutes, he luxuriated in the feeling of his mate’s hands in his hair, gently massaging his scalp as he washed and rinsed. When Armitage was at last satisfied that Ben’s hair was clean, they took turns washing each other, swiping a washcloth over skin that had been coated in sweat and slick and come, until the last traces of the heat had been rinsed away.

Only when Ben had been soaking in the hot water for a while did he realize just how exhausted he was, bone-tired, sore in places he’d forgotten. “Oh, kriff,” he said, sinking a little deeper into the water as he lay back. “We’re too old for this.”

“You’re telling me,” Armitage muttered. “I feel like I’ve been dragged behind a speeder for ten kilometers.”

“I think we’re going to have to pay a replacement fee for those sheets.”

“And a cleaning fee for the mattress, I’m sure. Plus, the whole suite reeks of sex,” Armitage said with a sigh. He rubbed a damp washcloth over his face. “Pfassk, that was humiliating.”

Ben studied him. The soft golden light picked up the warmer tones in his hair. “That’s how it felt to you?”

“I licked Akivan honey off your chest,” Armitage deadpanned.

“And I said I wanted to fuck you with my entire arm. You were in heat—it happens.”

Ben wasn’t embarrassed by what had happened between them, but he a little shaken by how intense the last thirty hours had been, the two of them knotted together, all skin and breath and heartbeat. As the heat crested, he’d felt incredibly close to Armitage, and he’d sensed that Armitage felt it, too.

Their regular sex life was satisfying—but, stars, they hadn’t made love like that in years. Decades. That kind of intimacy was intoxicating. He’d never thought they would experience it again.

“Armitage,” Ben said quietly. Under the water, he found Armitage’s foot, cautiously slid a hand along his calf. “About what happened…”

“It might not have been fertile,” Armitage said, not quite looking at him. “We may be worried over nothing.”

“Maybe.” An omega’s first and last heats were often infertile—Ben remembered learning that in some long-ago human biology unit. Maybe they would be lucky this time. “You should still see a doctor. Get your hormone levels checked, or something.”

“Of course.” Armitage’s voice was clipped. “I’ll make an appointment after we get home.”

“What do you want to do until then?”

“There’s nothing to do at this point. It’ll be a few weeks until we know if anything… took,” Armitage said. When he shifted, the water sloshed, rippling gently around him.

Despite himself, Ben imagined it: his seed taking root, making his mate’s belly grow. Intellectually, he knew why that would be a bad outcome. He shouldn’t wish for it. But part of him, the part still affected by lingering heat-induced hormones, sort of liked the idea. Kriffing biology.

Ben still remembered how thrilling it was when Armitage announced that he was ready to have a baby, after two years of marriage. Ben had been ready almost since the day they met, so it was welcome news. They began making plans.

Back then, Ben’s head was full of fantasies: breeding his mate yearly, until they had a whole brood of children, with another usually on the way. He liked the mental image of Armitage, soft and comfortable. He’d known it wouldn’t really be like that, of course. But they’d always talked about having three children, at least.

Armitage went into heat that winter, and Teo was born the following autumn. Nothing went the way they’d expected.

Despite being an omega, they quickly discovered that Armitage wasn’t suited to whelping. He suffered from nausea so severe that he steadily lost weight; more than once, he was hospitalized for dehydration. He was practically housebound until he gave birth, a few weeks before his due date.

Three years later, they decided to have another baby, hoping that first difficult pregnancy was a fluke. It was worse the second time around.

Armitage was in and out of the medcenter. He was prescribed strict bed rest at just twenty-five weeks, because of alarming contractions. For weeks, he was hooked up to an IV stand, so he could receive fluids at home; a medication pump embedded in his arm gave him continuous antiemetics, which did almost nothing for the nausea.

Even with those precautions, his water broke unexpectedly, much too soon. Poppy was born more than two months early. She weighed less than three pounds at birth. They almost lost her.

The thought of another pregnancy was terrifying. Ben wasn’t sure they could get through it again.

“Maybe we should go home,” Ben suggested. They were less than a week into their planned (and nonrefundable) two-week vacation, but Ben was willing to eat the cost if it made his mate more comfortable.

“What would be the point of that? It won’t change anything,” Armitage said grimly.

“You want to stay?”

“Well, I don’t want to invent an excuse when your family asks why we cut the trip short,” he said. “Which you know will happen.”

Ben hummed. “Probably.”

“So in that case, we might as well stay and…” Armitage gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. Relax. Or try to, anyway.”

Part of Ben wondered if Armitage wasn’t a little bit in denial about the situation, refusing to really think about it, which was unlike him. But at the same time, he understood: They wouldn’t know anything for sure until a few weeks had passed. Why not at least try to enjoy their time here, until reality came crashing in?

He squeezed Armitage’s leg, reassuringly. “We’re going to spend the next week and a half lying on the beach,” he promised.

That made Armitage smile, just a little.

 

***

 

When they were reunited with the kids, back home at Emita, the first thing Ben and Armitage had to do was present the souvenirs they’d brought with them.

For Poppy, Armitage had carefully selected a set of jeweled hair pins. They were delicate and silver, decorated with pale purple jasse hearts, a type of gem for which Baralou was famous. Poppy immediately slid one of the pins into her red hair, where it glimmered and winked each time she turned her head.

“It’s almost the same color as my lightsaber,” she said with a smile, admiring the little gems.

Teo, meanwhile, received a comprehensive holobook about the native flora of Baralou, written by one of the planet’s best-regarded botanists.

“This is great,” Teo said, booting up the holobook and scrolling through the contents. “But I wouldn’t have said no to an actual sample.”

“Laws exist to prevent that,” Armitage told him. “You know it’s illegal to transport foreign plant species to Chandrila.”

“Which reminds me,” Ben said. He rummaged around in one of their bags and retrieved a clear glass jar, full of water, into which he’d placed a sample of flowering seagrass, greenish-blue in color. He tossed the jar to Teo, who caught it handily. “Don’t touch it with your bare hands—I’m pretty sure it’s poisonous.”

Teo’s face lit up, while Armitage looked scandalized. “Ben!”

“What?”

“That could be an invasive species—”

“Teo will be responsible with it,” Ben said. “Right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Teo said immediately.

“See? It’s fine.”

Ultimately, Armitage allowed Teo to keep the sample for a few days, purely for education purposes, but only after he promised to take proper safety precautions while handling the plant, and to destroy it when he was done.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Ben said, hours later, sensing that Armitage was still annoyed with him. They were washing up after dinner while the kids watched HoloTV. “He’s not going to singlehandedly destroy the Chandrilan ecosystem with a piece of wilted seagrass.”

“That’s not the point,” Armitage said irritably, up to his elbows in soapy water. “What does it teach him?”

“To live adventurously.” Or something like that.

“To disregard laws,” Armitage said with a frown.

“You knew I was a scoundrel when you married me,” Ben pointed out, as Armitage passed him another plate to dry.

“Part-time scoundrel. And I thought you’d grow out of it.”

In fact, Ben was a pilot when he and Armitage met, racing under the name Kylo Ren, and doing some work for Han’s shipping company on the side. Flying made sense to him, in a way that nothing else ever had: He was a far better pilot than he ever was a padawan, and following Leia into politics had never appealed to him.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. He didn’t know what it was until he set eyes on Armitage, at a political fundraiser Leia had forced the rest of the family to attend.

Armitage was working for some other catering company at the time; it would be a few years before he started First Order. Looking back, Ben was sure he made a fool out of himself when he approached Armitage, came on much too strong. He was twenty-five and overconfident and already half in love, but Armitage took an interest in him all the same.

(They slipped off together to have sex in the back of Ben’s speeder that very afternoon, within an hour of first making eye contact. Then they straightened their clothes and returned to the venue—separately, so as not to arouse suspicion. Armitage carefully omitted that part when the kids were old enough to ask how their parents met.)

Three months later, they sealed themselves together as mates. It was insane to bond so soon, they both agreed at the time, but it felt right. Neither of them had ever been so sure about anything.

To say that Ben’s family was shocked would be an understatement. When Ben introduced Armitage, they were already mated. Leia, in particular, was horrified to learn that she had been denied the opportunity to talk Ben out of it. She’d suspected that Armitage was some kind of gold digger, that he was using Ben for his money or his status. (She also assumed that Armitage was already pregnant—hence the rushed mating—and seemed surprised when he did not promptly grow round with Ben’s child.)

But there was nothing anyone could do. Mate bonds were biological as much as emotional, not easily dissolved. Rey, Han and Luke all accepted their union easily enough, but Leia struggled to trust Armitage, which caused a rift between her and Ben. Ultimately, she and Armitage came to a truce after he became pregnant with Teo.

The wedding that took place six months after Ben and Armitage met was just a formality, since they were already mated. But it was necessary: Ben was a prince, after all, even if his mother’s world no longer existed. The wedding satisfied tradition, as well as the many thousands of surviving Alderaanians who had long anticipated their prince’s marriage. (Rey’s wedding to Rose was a similar spectacle.)

“You liked me because I was a scoundrel,” Ben said now. He leaned in closer and reached up to wipe a few stray suds off Armitage’s cheek, unsure of how they got there. “There weren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

“No, I had exactly the right number of scoundrels,” Armitage replied primly, as Ben’s hand lingered on his cheek. Then he smiled fondly. “Turns out, I only needed one.”

 

***

 

At forty-four, Ben was much too old to be dealing with pregnancy scares. And yet, there he was, buying a test at the corner shop.

He felt ridiculous, paranoid that the young Balosar clerk was judging him, like he was some irresponsible young alpha who couldn’t control his knot. But whatever she might’ve been thinking, she made no comment, just bagged his purchases: two pregnancy tests (Armitage would probably want to test twice, to be sure), two pints of ice cream (which they would need to either celebrate or commiserate, depending on the results), and a pack of batteries (grabbed in a futile effort to make the contents of his shopping basket look less conspicuous).

It had been a little more than a month since the heat. So far, he and Armitage had minced around the subject of pregnancy, avoiding any frank discussion. Maybe, just maybe, Armitage would show no symptoms and they could forget the whole thing, never speak of it again.

Until Armitage took a test, it wasn’t real—so he kept putting it off. At first, he insisted that there was no need, because he felt normal. If he were pregnant, Armitage argued, he would be miserably sick by now. That was how it always happened before: A month after conception, he was unable to keep anything down. Then he claimed that any symptoms he might be experiencing, however mild, were probably caused by stress and didn’t mean anything. This morning, however, he finally agreed to take a test.

They couldn’t go on like this; they had to know, one way or another, even if the results would be hard to face. While Teo was out with friends for the afternoon, and Poppy was with her grandmother, Ben went out to buy a test.

Armitage had been anxiously guzzling water in Ben’s absence; he disappeared into the ‘fresher attached to their bedroom as soon as Ben got home, test in hand. Ben perched on the edge of the neatly-made bed, gripping his knees, unsure of what to do with himself.

Eventually, Armitage opened the ‘fresher door to allow Ben inside, before turning to sit on the closed toilet lid, hunched forward awkwardly, like he was in pain. Ben noticed the test lying on the counter, but tried not to look at it.

“Five minutes,” Armitage said, glancing up at Ben. He looked a little pale. “Well. Four and a half now. There’s a timer.”

Ben said nothing, just squeezed Armitage’s shoulder reassuringly. A few more minutes, and they would know. Whatever the result, finding out couldn’t be worse than waiting in limbo like they’d been. At least, he hoped so.

They both jumped a little when the test began to beep a loud, cheerful, obnoxious tune. For a second, the two of them stared at each other. Then Armitage reached over and picked the test up, cautiously, as if it were likely to explode. His face drained of color when he looked at the little screen.

Ben leaned forward enough to see the readout and felt his stomach drop to somewhere around his knees. An animated icon of a pacifier and Aurebesh letters spelling out “BABY!” blinked at him.

“Oh,” he heard himself say. “Kriff.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Armitage said, dropping the test on the counter with a clatter. He put his head in his hands. “Pfassk, this is a nightmare.”

“Armitage—”

“I’m forty-nine years old! I can’t have a baby! I shouldn’t even be pregnant—”

“It’s okay,” Ben said, because he couldn’t think of anything better. He crouched beside the toilet and rubbed Armitage’s back with one hand; he could feel Armitage trembling, the unsteady hitch of his breathing. “It’s going to be all right.”

Armitage glanced up at him, his expression somewhere between doubtful and resentful.

“We’ll make an appointment and get you looked at,” Ben said, in a low, calm voice. Armitage was panicking now, but once he could visualize the steps of a plan, it would seem more manageable to him. “After that, we can decide what to do.”

A strange feeling came over Ben as he remembered that they’d had this conversation before, almost fifteen years ago. He’d uttered the same words to Armitage, practically verbatim, never dreaming he’d be in this situation again.

When Poppy was six months old, they discovered that Armitage had become pregnant again. It came as a shock: They hadn’t thought he could conceive outside of a heat, much less while breastfeeding, which had made them careless about birth control.

It was a hectic, stressful period. Caring for a toddler and an infant at the same time was draining, especially because Poppy was so tiny and needed so much attention. Though she was born six months ago, she was a little more than two months premature, which meant she was developmentally at the level of a fourth-month-old baby. She could barely roll over by herself at that time.

Meanwhile, Armitage was still recovering from a difficult pregnancy and traumatic birth. At seven weeks along with the current pregnancy, he could keep nothing down, and he could barely get off the couch. Nursing Poppy was hard, and chasing after Teo was impossible.

The doctor advised them to consider all options. They were still struggling to decide whether or not to continue the pregnancy when Armitage started bleeding, and the choice was made for them.

Later, the doctor assured them that nothing Armitage did had caused the miscarriage. Most likely, a chromosomal abnormality meant the embryo was incompatible with life, nothing for it. Or perhaps Armitage’s body just wasn’t ready to carry another pregnancy so soon after Poppy.

That line of reasoning wasn’t as comforting to Armitage as the doctor intended, Ben could tell. No matter what anyone said, part of Armitage always blamed himself for the miscarriage: If he weren’t so sickly, if he were a better omega, if his body hadn’t failed…

After that, they decided not to have any more children. Armitage’s health was too fragile to risk another pregnancy, and their hearts couldn’t take another loss.

“I don’t want anybody to know yet,” Armitage was saying now, a note of pleading in his voice. “Especially the children.”

Ben nodded grimly. In the past, they had to share news of Armitage’s pregnancies much sooner than they preferred, because his severe nausea made it impossible to hide. If he had the same problem this time, they would be unable to handle this privately. Whatever happened, it had to be soon.

“After you get looked at, I’ll have Lando invite the kids to Bespin for a few days,” Ben told Armitage. “He won’t ask why.”

“While they’re gone, we’ll take care of it,” Armitage said, nodding slowly, like that made sense to him.

“And you’ll have some time to rest before they come home,” Ben added, studying Armitage’s expression, still rubbing his back. They seemed to have an understanding about what needed to happen, without speaking the words.

Armitage squeezed his eyes shut briefly, like he was in pain. “Right,” he said. “Nobody has to know.”

 

***

 

Ben could sense Armitage’s embarrassment when they arrived at the obstetrician’s office. He felt a little awkward himself; they appeared to be the oldest people in the waiting room, among a blend of species.

Armitage briskly filled out the new patient form, detailing his medical history. Human, male omega, mated, forty-nine standard years old. Three previous pregnancies, two premature births, one miscarriage. Hyperemesis gravidarum with all three. No, he wasn’t taking suppressants or using birth control. Yes, he went into heat recently, but (he had to cram this into an “additional comments” section) it was his first in almost fifteen years.

In the exam room, a medidroid took a blood sample from Armitage and measured his vitals. The doctor arrived soon after, a Pantoran woman who introduced herself as Doctor Keeva.

Though Armitage made an effort not to show it, Ben could tell that he was skeptical about a Pantoran’s understanding of human anatomy. But when he made the appointment, he discovered that his previous OB had retired, and Keeva was the only doctor willing to see him before he reached eight weeks. And besides, Ben thought—it wasn’t as if they’d be relying on her for long-term care.

Keeva consulted a readout on her datapad. “Well, I won’t leave you in suspense,” she said. “The blood test confirmed that you’re pregnant.”

Looking faintly embarrassed, Armitage admitted, “I thought I was too old. I’ve been off suppressants for years and never went into heat.”

“It’s uncommon, but not unheard of. Biology can be tricky that way,” Keeva told him, with a small, sympathetic smile. “You’re not the first human omega I’ve seen in your situation, or the oldest.” She consulted her datapad again. “Based on the information you’ve provided, we have plenty to discuss. But before we get into that, let’s take a look and see what’s what. All right?”

Armitage lay back on the exam table, pushing his shirt up to his ribs, while Keeva dimmed the lights and prepared a handheld ultrasounder. Ben took Armitage’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Armitage squeezed back, which meant he was okay—at least, more okay that not.

Keeva passed the ultrasounder slowly back and forth over Armitage’s flat belly and studied her datapad. After a minute, she keyed in a command, and a nearby holoemitter switched on. It projected a three-dimensional image, blue-tinged and pulsing softly: the baby, magnified many times to show detail.

No, Ben reminded himself, sternly—the embryo. He couldn’t think of it as a baby. It didn’t even look human yet, just a tiny glowing smudge. (That didn’t help as much as he’d hoped.)

“There we are,” Keeva said. She pointed to different parts of the hologram, tracing the shape of it with her forefinger. “This part is the head, and there’s the rump. It’s a little hard to see, but the arms and legs are starting to sprout.”

In a low voice, Armitage asked, “Does it look healthy?”

She nodded. “You’re measuring about seven weeks, which matches the timing of your heat. We count gestation from two weeks before you ovulate,” she added. “Baby’s growing normally. And I’m picking up a heartbeat. You can see it right there.”

Ben’s own heart stumbled a little when he noticed the tiny, bright flicker. A new heart, beating along with Armitage’s.

“Can I hear it?” Armitage asked. He was staring at the hologram, its blue light reflected in his eyes.

“Of course,” Keeva said, before Ben could even think to protest, or shoot Armitage a questioning look.

Suddenly there was a low, thumping whoosh. Ben recognized the sound; he’d heard it three times before, in rooms just like this one.

Armitage squeezed Ben’s hand again, and Ben squeezed back: unthinking, reflexive. They stayed like that for a moment, studying the hologram, listening to the steady thumping of the heart.

Eventually, Keeva shut off the hologram and called for the lights.

“Okay,” she said, looking between Armitage and Ben. “Let’s talk about your options.”

 

***

 

The conversation that followed was full of words like “geriatric pregnancy,” and “high risk,” and “additional monitoring.” Ben hardly spoke at all, too busy running through nightmare scenarios in his mind.

At the end of the appointment, Armitage declined to schedule a termination, and instead made an appointment for another ultrasound in four weeks. He agreed to come in sooner if he experienced cramping or bleeding, or if (more like when, considering his track record) his nausea became severe. The doctor sent him off with a bottle of prenatal vitamins.

Ben walked out of the medcenter and climbed into the speeder in a fog, Armitage at his side. They sat in silence until they were halfway home, both of them keenly aware that the appointment hadn’t gone the way they expected or discussed.

Finally Ben couldn’t keep quiet: “You said you don’t want another baby.”

Armitage was looking out the window, jaw tight. “I know what I said.”

“So what changed?”

“What do you think?” Armitage’s voice was sharp. Then he took a slow breath through his nose, steeling himself. “Until now, I was hoping it would be—ectopic, or abnormal, or something that would make it easy. No choice at all. But…” He lifted a hand as if to touch his belly, then dropped it, gripping the edge of the seat. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Armitage…”

“We can make it work. It's not as if we don't have the means.”

“Can you hear yourself right now?” Ben gripped the controls harder as he wove the speeder through the mid-afternoon traffic. “It would be like starting over when we were almost done. Remember all the plans we talked about, when the kids are older? More time for each other, just the two of us—”

“Maybe I’ll lose it, and you won't have to sacrifice any of your free time,” Armitage muttered, without looking at Ben.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Ben hesitated. More than anything, he wanted never to have been in this situation to begin with. Some awful part of him had secretly hoped Armitage would miscarry, thereby taking the choice out of their hands—nobody's fault. But it was too cruel to admit, even if Armitage suspected, even if Armitage had himself had previously hoped for the same thing.

“It’s not that I don’t want the baby. I just don’t want to lose you,” Ben said at last, and he meant it, with his whole heart. He reached across the center console to touch Armitage’s hand. “That’s what I’m focused on. I’m only thinking of you.”

“I managed before,” Armitage said, defensively.

“You were bedridden. You had to be hospitalized,” Ben sputtered. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Surely Armitage remembered how miserable his pregnancies had been. “Where is this coming from? I thought we were on the same page.”

Armitage was shaking his head. “So did I. But that was before,” he said despairingly. He dropped his voice. “It’s different now.”

Despite the circumstances, Ben understood. He’d expected to feel relief more than anything else when this pregnancy was over, knowing it was the right decision for their family—but as soon as he saw that tiny heart flickering, he’d realized there would be grief, too, a persistent pain like pressing on a bruise.

Before today, the pregnancy was almost theoretical, hard to visualize. But now Armitage had seen that little glowing smudge. He’d heard the heartbeat. And just like that, the embryo had become a baby to him: a precious thing to be protected, like their other children had been.

“It won’t replace the one we lost,” Ben said softly.

“I know that,” Armitage replied. “But… if I decide I want this child, would you want it, too?”

“Wanting doesn't really factor into it.” Ben suppressed a grimace. “You heard the doctor. It’s too dangerous.”

“She didn’t say that.”

“Well, not in those words, but—”

“Plenty of omegas have children over forty,” Armitage said stiffly.

“You aren’t like most omegas. If you go through with this, and something happens…” Ben couldn’t say it, didn’t even want to think about it. “What about the kids we already have? They need you.”

Armitage bristled. “If you’re suggesting that I don’t care about the children—”

“Of course not! But this isn’t like you,” Ben said. “You’re supposed to be the logical one, remember?”

“I need time to think, that’s all,” Armitage said. His voice was thin. “I have decisions to make.”

“We have decisions to make,” Ben reminded him. “The two of us. We’re in this together.”

A moment passed, and Armitage squeezed his eyes shut, looking weary and pained. “Let’s not talk anymore right now.”

Ben said nothing, just settled his hand on Armitage’s thigh.

 

***

 

They didn’t talk about it that night, or the next day, or the day after that.

There was always a reason, some pretext to avoid discussing the obvious: Teo and Poppy were at home, so they had no privacy; or Armitage was busy with an upcoming wedding on the Silver Sea; or Ben had to holocomm Rey about some ancient Jedi text she was puzzling over. But in truth, they were simply avoiding each other, both reluctant to confront the real issue.

Meanwhile, Ben noticed, Armitage began taking a daily prenatal vitamin. Ben didn’t want to read too deeply into what that might mean, or guess at Armitage’s intentions—knowing his mate, he would take the pills even if he were undecided, if only to be prepared for any possibility. It was the responsible thing to do.

Ben made sure to prepare blander meals than usual, easy on the stomach, because although Armitage’s nausea wasn’t severe, it was present. Sometimes he woke feeling queasy, and he was sensitive to smell. Even a slight whiff of eggs was enough to make him retreat from the kitchen without eating breakfast, but porridge and dry toast was just fine. If the kids noticed a change in their diet, they didn’t say so.

Five days after the appointment, Ben got a message from Han: one of his pilots was out of commission, for reasons he did not explain, and he needed someone to pick up an important shipment from Adim and transport it to Adari, where Han would be waiting to receive it. The job was time-sensitive and would probably affect other contracts if the cargo wasn’t delivered on schedule. Ben had filled in like this many times over the years, but this time, his first instinct was to decline.

“I’m not going,” Ben said that night, after he’d climbed into bed with his mate.

“What?” Armitage looked up sharply from his datapad, frowning. He liked to read for an hour or so before bed. “Why not? You never tell your father no when he asks a favor.”

“It’ll take a week to get there and come back—and it’s more important that I’m here. What if something happens while I’m gone?”

Armitage suppressed a grimace. “Then I’ll comm you,” he said. “It’s not as if your physical presence will cause or prevent anything—”

“I know that,” Ben said. “But you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I’m not that fragile.”

Ben sighed through his nose. “Armitage—”

“You should go, Ben. Really,” Armitage said. He set his datapad aside and fixed Ben with a serious look. “We’ll take the week to think things over. And when you get back, we’ll talk.”

In the end, somewhat reluctantly, Ben agreed.

 

***

 

As Ben made the jump to hyperspace and settled in for the forty-hour trip, Armitage’s words floated back to him: _We can make it work._

Theoretically, they could, if they really wanted to. The thought of starting over at their age was daunting, but not impossible. They had the means to support another child, and Ben could stay home to raise it while Armitage returned to work. (That was their original agreement: Armitage carried and birthed their babies, and Ben cared for them after. It seemed only fair.) The third time around, he would be an expert: more experienced, more patient.

If circumstances were different, Ben would be excited at the prospect of another baby. They’d always wanted a big family, but it was never in the cards. Armitage’s pregnancies were difficult and dangerous; at his age, it wasn’t safe.

Keeping the baby would mean risking his mate’s health. Ben pictured Armitage, weak and dehydrated, rapidly dropping weight because he could barely eat, confined to bed because the baby was threatening to come early. How much harder would pregnancy be on his body, fifteen years later? He might not survive it.

Ben also remembered how heartbreakingly tiny Poppy was when she was born, more than two months premature: barely two and a half pounds, and so fragile. When the doctor lifted her away from Armitage, she didn’t make a sound. For a moment, Ben panicked, thinking she was dead, until he reached out with the Force and sensed a faint heartbeat.

It was agony. They couldn’t hold her, only put their hands inside the incubator, where she was wrapped in a nest of wires and tubing, unable to breathe on her own. She was too small even to nurse; Armitage had to pump his breast milk so it could be fed to her through a tube. For eight weeks, they practically lived at the medcenter, until she was strong enough to come home.

Against all odds, Poppy had pulled through, with no lasting health problems. But this baby might not be so lucky.

So much could go wrong.

Ben had accepted many years ago that their family was complete, even if he sometimes felt that something was missing. There was so much that he’d loved about raising their children.

The more he turned it over in his mind, the more Ben realized that, deep down, he did want the baby. Under different circumstances, this pregnancy might’ve felt like a gift from the Force. A miracle. One last chance to grow their family.

But his fear was greater than his longing. No matter how badly he’d wanted another child, no matter how often he’d wished over the years, it was impossible. The timing was wrong. He couldn’t ask Armitage to risk his health.

Still, Ben realized, he’d spoken too harshly to Armitage after the appointment, reacted too strongly out of fear. If the mere thought of an abortion weighed on Ben this heavily, it had to feel crushing to his mate.

Ben resolved to be gentler to Armitage when he got home. More supportive. Understanding. And when the time came, Ben would take care of him, the way a mate should.

 

***

 

“So, kid,” Han said. Though it was the middle of the day, local time, he and Ben were sitting down in a spaceport restaurant over two glasses of Corellian spiced ale. The job was done, Han argued, so they might as well have a drink. “Thought any more about the Five Sabers?”

Ben didn’t bother to comment on the absurdity of Han still calling him “kid” when he was over forty, because he would probably still do the same to Teo and Poppy for the rest of their lives. He was beginning to realize that, no matter how big they got, your kids never stopped being your kids.

“You ask me about the Five Sabers every year,” Ben said.

“Because you keep promising to come back,” Han reminded him.

Ben had raced on Han’s team until the year Teo was born, and he jumped back in when the kids were a little older. But racing didn’t fit into his life the way it used to: The later stages of the Five Sabers, like the sublight relay, took him into the depths of space, where he was unreachable for weeks.

Though Armitage claimed he didn’t mind, Ben found it hard to be away. Eventually, he chose to bow out indefinitely. Han saved him a slot on the team every year, though, just in case.

“Someday,” Ben said to his father. “Not just yet.”

“Well, don’t wait too long. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

“I don’t think you’re about to keel over any time soon,” Ben told him. At least, he hoped not. Han was a rather spry seventy-six and Ben liked to think that he had at least another good decade left in him. “And you’ll see us on Theron, anyway.”

Even after Ben stopped competing, he and Armitage packed up the kids every year and traveled to Theron to watch the first two stages of the Five Sabers in person. It had become a family tradition; Rey, Leia, Han and Luke were always there, too, along with other extended relations.

But they might miss it this year, he realized suddenly: By the time the orbital sprints began, Armitage would be too pregnant to travel.

Assuming he was still pregnant at that time, of course.

Ben chided himself for even thinking that was a possibility. They weren’t going to have the baby. He’d sensed Armitage’s conflicted feelings—stars, Ben felt conflicted, too—but he knew his mate well enough to know that he would make the practical choice in the end, no matter how much it hurt.

“Kids staying out of trouble?” Han asked, after a while.

Ben hummed. “For the time being. Teo’s working on his university applications.”

“Already?” Han snorted. “Overachiever.”

“Gets that from his dad,” Ben said, sipping his drink. “He’s looking at Be’Nal, Sanbra and Theed. Nothing on Chandrila. Nothing even close.”

Han glanced at him sidelong, eyebrows raised. “Can you really blame him?”

“No,” Ben admitted. “But Armitage is…” _Devastated,_ he wanted to say. “You know. Disappointed.”

“Yeah, well, I have a feeling that would’ve happened, no matter what.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s always been too fussy when it comes to those kids. Overprotective,” Han said, with a dismissive little wave of his hand. “You know what I’m talking about. Any time one of them scraped a knee or had a cold, it was a whole production.”

Ben felt his jaw tighten. “Maybe he should’ve shipped them off to Jedi school and let somebody else deal with them,” he said crisply. Armitage was a little overprotective of their children at times, especially Poppy, but Ben couldn’t hold it against him.

“You know what? I think there’s a middle ground somewhere between those things.” Han took a drink. “Anyway, if Teo changes his mind about going to some fancy university, he’s got other options. A few character-building months in space might be good for him.” He nudged Ben with his elbow. “It was good for you.”

Ben smiled faintly. “Sure. But I think I needed it more than Teo does,” he said.

Nobody ever asked Ben if he wanted to be a Jedi; it was simply expected of him, from the time that he first showed an aptitude for the Force. There had never been another path—so when it became clear that Ben wasn’t cut out to be a Jedi, he felt lost. Angry and fearful and without purpose.

After Ben washed out of Jedi training, he might’ve spun out in a hundred different bad directions, if not for Han. They’d struggled to relate to each other while Ben was growing up; for years, Ben thought that Han simply couldn’t understand him and didn’t care enough to try. But he came through when Ben needed him.

Han’s shipping company was up and running by that time, and Ben worked with him, transporting cargo, partly because he had no better option. As a directionless teenager, it helped him to get his head on straight. They saw the galaxy together, got to know each other, and a few years later, they met Rey.

“And besides,” Ben went on. “Armitage wouldn’t go for it. Pretty sure he’ll skin you if even think too hard about whisking Teo off to the edges of habitable space.”

Han snorted. “Fair enough,” he said.

A serving droid showed a family of Twi’leks to a nearby booth. The three children, none of whom looked older than ten, were squabbling loudly in Twi’leki, while their parents attempted to corral them into their seats.

Despite himself, Ben smiled a little as he watched them. Normally, screaming children in public places made him feel glad that his own children were nearly grown—but just now, the sight of them stirred something like longing, deep in his chest. Catching himself, he tried to shove the feeling back down.

“Kriff,” Han said, while one of the parents wrestled a butter knife out of the smallest child’s hands. “I don’t know how people do it. I don’t even remember how _I_ did it. Who has that kind of energy?”

“You apparently,” Ben pointed out. “I mean, you were in your fifties by the time Rey came along, and you managed somehow.”

Han shrugged. “That’s different,” he said, taking a drink. “Rey came with her own set of… challenges.” He was careful not to say “problems,” Ben noticed, though it was a tough transition for all of them when Rey joined the family. She came to them deeply traumatized. “But at least we got to skip the baby stage. You couldn’t pay me enough to do that again.”

“Really? I didn’t think it was so bad.” Ben had fond memories of the baby stage with his own kids. Late-night feedings and diaper changes were rough, but with those challenges came so many joys.

Poppy reaching for him with her pudgy baby hands, calling him “dada” for the first time as he scooped her up. Teo’s wobbling first steps. Listening to them whispering and giggling together through the wall, late at night, when they thought their parents were asleep. Holidays, and afternoons spent swimming in the lake, and breakfasts in their kitchen on rainy weekend mornings.

Ben wanted to experience that again, one last time. He would cherish it more now, he thought, knowing how fleeting it all was.

If only.

“And besides,” Han went on. “You were practically grown by then. If you’d been much younger—well, I don’t know if we could’ve handled two. The timing worked out just right, though.”

“But was it hard?” Ben asked, studying him. “Starting over with another kid when you were almost done?”

For some reason, that made Han huff a laugh. “Listen, kid,” he said. “What you need to understand about parenting is that you’re never really done. Even when you think you are, you’re not.” He downed the last of his ale and gestured to the serving droid for another. “Took me long enough to figure that out.”

“How so?”

“By the time Rey was old enough to leave home, you and Red were having your kids,” Han said. “Cycle starts over. It’s a lot easier, mind you—but still. You’ll know what I mean, when you have grandkids.”

“I can’t picture it,” Ben admitted.

“Neither could I. But it’ll happen before you know it.” There was a note of warning in Han’s voice. He gave Ben a steady look. “Take it from me, kid—it goes fast. You don’t get that time back, and you don’t get any do-overs. So I hope you’ve been paying attention.”

All Ben could do was take another drink.

 

***

 

That night cycle, Ben tossed and turned in his bunk, unable to relax. After twenty years together, he found it difficult to fall asleep without the feeling of his mate in bed beside him.

Armitage would laugh, probably, if he knew. But maybe tonight, halfway across the galaxy, Armitage was missing him, too. Eventually, he drifted off, imagining the good, familiar smell of Armitage’s skin.

_Poppy was kneeling on the sitting room rug, playing with a toddler. She looked older, her hair longer._

_The little girl in front of her was three years old, maybe, with shiny dark hair pulled back in a simple braid, tied with a sparkly red ribbon. She looked delighted as Poppy used the Force to make a pair of painted model TIE fighters dive and spin and barrel-roll through the air._

_“Teo’s transport lands in forty minutes.” Armitage’s voice floated from the next room. “We’ll be late unless we leave right now.”_

_“We’re not going to be late,” Poppy called back, plunging one of the TIE fighters into a nosedive with a twitch of her fingers. She pulled it up again just before it smashed onto the ground. “Dad will break the speed limit the whole way.”_

_“He most certainly will not,” Armitage said, striding into the room. His hair was a little longer than he usually kept it, and he’d grown a beard. He looked down at the two girls, exasperated. “Darling, where are your shoes?”_

_“Don’t like them,” the little girl said, nose scrunched up in a way that made her look like Teo when he was small. When she looked up at Armitage, Ben saw that she had the same dark eyes as Poppy._

_“Poppy, find some shoes for her, will you,” Armitage asked with a sigh. “You can put them on her in the speeder.”_

_“Don’t wanna go in the speeder,” the girl protested, crossing her arms, as Poppy got up and went into the other room in search of shoes._

_“Well, then, I suppose we’ll have to go without you,” Armitage said. “And I’ll have to tell your brother that you didn’t want to see him. He’ll be so disappointed.”_

_That made the girl gasp. “No, no, I wanna see Teo,” she said immediately, eyes wide._

_“That’s what I thought. Come here, darling.” Armitage leaned down to pick her up. She was getting a little big to be carried, probably, but he shifted the girl onto his hip, anyway. Then he called: “Ben! We’ve really got to get going. Ben—”_

Lying alone in his bunk, Ben woke with a feeling of warmth in his chest, a contentment that settled into his bones. The dream brought a smile to his face as he remembered it. Strangely, it didn’t dissolve as he recalled the details, the way dreams often did.

The little girl in his dream had dark hair, like him, which also made him smile. Teo and Poppy were redheads, though they’d inherited Ben’s dark eyes. Ben wondered idly what the dream girl’s name was.

Then he shook himself mentally, telling himself it didn’t matter. He shouldn’t think of such things. There would be no little girl.

Armitage would ultimately choose to terminate. Ben was sure of this. It was inevitable, he thought, knowing Armitage, and knowing all the reasons why they shouldn’t have a baby now. But stars, he wished it were possible. He would’ve loved to raise another child together.

It would tear them both up inside to end the pregnancy, Ben sensed, even if they both acknowledged that it was the safer choice. If only the timing were better. If only…

Ben couldn’t stop picturing the little girl from his dream. It had felt so real, like the handful of Force visions he’d experienced in his life. Maybe, he thought slowly, cautiously. Maybe it meant that future was possible, after all.

After the appointment, Armitage had confessed to having conflicted feelings, and Ben had rebuked him, rather than offering support. He may not have felt comfortable expressing his true feelings after that, if he thought that Ben wouldn’t accept the baby.

If Armitage wanted to terminate, then Ben would support him completely. But if he was still weighing his options, if there was a part of him that was considering keeping the baby, then he should know that Ben would support him through that, too. Whatever happened, they’d get through it together.

Ben needed to get back to Chandrila immediately.

 

***

 

The sky was turning a bruised purple when Ben got home, and Armitage’s speeder was gone.

He had an event tonight, probably. Though he had a competent staff, he often preferred to be on-site to manage important events personally, and some clients even requested his presence. Ben sometimes wished Armitage would loosen his grip on the reins a bit, but First Order was his life’s work. He was protective of what he’d built.

In the past, Armitage always had to stop working by the time he was eight or nine weeks pregnant, unable to stay on his feet all day, or even tolerate the smell of food. It made him miserable; Armitage was generally happiest when he was busy. If he was still feeling well enough to work at this stage, Ben took it as a good sign. Maybe it would be all right.

Maybe.

Ben found Teo in his bedroom, playing some kind of fighting sim. Poppy was lounging on her brother’s bed, studiously watching the sprays of colorful holographic blood. She looked up with a sunny smile when Ben stepped into the room, while Teo gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

“Your dad working tonight?” Ben asked.

“Yeah. He said not to wait up,” Teo reported, mashing a series of buttons that caused his character to rip out an enemy’s spine. “Hey, can we order Mandalorian food?”

“The trip was fine, thanks for asking,” Ben said dryly.

Thirty minutes later, the three of them were watching _Republic Medcenter_ (Poppy’s current favorite holodrama) and slurping gi dumpling soup. Poppy was explaining the complicated relationships between the characters to Teo, in excruciating detail, while he nodded along, a look of consternation on his face.

“So, wait,” Teo was saying. “The Chagrian doctor is her wife?”

“That’s right.”

“But she has a baby with the Twi’lek plastic surgeon?”

“Yeah, but that was, like, seasons and seasons ago—after the speeder crash, but before the shuttle crash. They had a fling while she and Mee’la were broken up. She ended up marrying Mee’la, and now they all raise the baby together.”

“Uh-huh.” Teo squinted at the holoprojector. “Are you old enough to watch this show? It seems a little… sexy.”

“I usually watch it with Dad,” Poppy said, around a mouthful of food.

“You’re kidding. _Dad_ watches this?”

From the other end of the sofa, Ben studied them. He tried to picture this moment with three children instead of two, imagining a dark-haired toddler sitting between them, or perhaps a baby propped up in Teo’s lap.

It made him smile, even as it made his chest ache.

 

***

 

Armitage didn’t get home until long after the kids went to bed. (Well, Teo was probably still awake at this hour—but he was keeping quiet in his room, and he was still on break from school, so Ben decided to leave him to it.) He padded quietly into their room, like he’d expected to find Ben asleep, and looked surprised to see him sitting up in their bed.

For a second, they stared at each other, both of them holding back. Then Armitage cleared his throat and said, “I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

Ben shrugged. “I was going to stick around another day, but…”

“But?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.” Armitage’s throat bobbed a little as he swallowed. Then he turned to the dresser and pulled out his nightclothes.

While he undressed, Ben studied his mate’s familiar body. He looked good in the warm, low light of their bedroom: narrow and soft, freckled, stretch-marked, his belly wrinkled after two pregnancies. _Like kriffing pseudograin dough,_ Armitage said once, despairingly, pinching the loose skin between his fingers. Ben had taken him by the hands and kissed him quiet then. He wished Armitage could see himself the way Ben saw him.

“I ordered you some roast shatual,” Ben said eventually. He sat up straighter, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so he faced Armitage.

“I noticed.”

“Did you eat already?”

“Yes, at the venue. I brought back some zucca fruit pastries,” Armitage added, pulling on a loose blue sleep shirt, one of Ben’s. “I put them in the fridge.”

“How was it?”

“No major disasters. Which is good, for a wedding.” Armitage smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was done changing, but he didn’t come to bed right away, hesitating by the dresser.

“Come here,” Ben said quietly, reaching for him. Armitage seemed to brace himself before he approached, step by step, and let Ben take one of his hands. At last, he perched on the edge of the bed next to Ben, a conspicuous space between them. “Armitage…”

“I need to tell you something,” Armitage said, with a soft sort of urgency. He squeezed Ben’s hand, just once. “I’ve decided.”

Ben tried to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. He’d come home prepared to plead his case, to tell Armitage how he felt. “I thought we were going to talk about it.”

“No point. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Armitage—”

“I’m not having an abortion, Ben. I’m going to have this baby,” Armitage said. He placed his free hand on his belly, almost protectively. “With or without you.”

Ben blinked, still gripping his mate’s hand. “Wait, what?”

“It’s all right.” In the low light, Armitage’s eyes looked darker than they did by day. His jaw was tight. “I understand that you don’t want any more children. And I’m the one going back on all our plans, so I don’t expect anything from you.”

“Hold on—”

“You won’t have to raise it, and I won’t require any support.” Armitage’s words were measured, like he’d rehearsed, though his voice wavered a little. “Teo will be at university next year, and we can split the time with Poppy. Co-parenting might be… challenging, for a while, if I’m ill again. But it’ll be manageable.”

For a moment, Ben stared at him, unable to formulate a response. “What are you saying?” he sputtered. “You think I’m going to—what, abandon you while you’re pregnant?”

“I know you don’t want me to have this baby,” Armitage said. There was no judgment in his tone, only sadness. “You made it abundantly clear—”

“I shouldn’t have said those things. I ran my mouth without thinking,” Ben admitted. He lifted Armitage’s hand to his lips, kissed his knuckles in apology. “I was scared for you. I still am. But…”

Armitage just looked at him—not moving closer, not pulling away. “But?”

“I love you. I love our children. I love our life together. And I want to have another baby,” Ben said softly. Looking up at his mate, he could see Armitage’s pulse fluttering at his throat. “That’s what I realized. That’s what I came home to tell you.” He kissed Armitage’s hand again, pleadingly this time. “Say something.”

“I wasn’t expecting to hear that from you,” Armitage admitted. “The whole time you were gone, I was preparing for the worst.”

“Twenty years, and you think that little of me?”

Armitage shook his head. “This isn’t what you signed up for,” he said.

“No, but—”

“We had plans. We were going to travel, see the galaxy—”

“We can travel any time,” Ben said. “Why are you trying to talk me out of this?”

“I don’t want you making any promises you’ll regret, or to trap you in the house with another infant.”

“Are you kidding? I could never regret this.” He cupped Armitage’s jaw in his hand. “We always talked about three, remember?”

Armitage managed a small smile. “Do you really want this?” he asked. “You’re not just… I don’t know, humoring me?”

Ben leaned in to kiss him. “I really, really want this,” he said. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. While I was gone, I had this dream—”

“You dreamed that we had the baby?” Armitage asked, studying him. “That’s what changed your mind?”

“No. It was more than that. It’s hard to explain.” Ben was hesitant to call it a vision, knowing Armitage’s opinion of the more mystical side of the Force. “It felt as real to me as you do right now. And it was so peaceful. I woke up feeling like something was missing—but it was okay, because it was waiting for us somewhere.”

“Oh, Ben.” Armitage’s voice was full of relief. Finally, he allowed himself to be pulled into Ben’s arms, almost collapsing against him. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled against his mate’s shoulder. “I was going out of my head the whole time you were gone. Hormones or something. I was afraid I’d have to do this alone—”

“You’re not going to do this by yourself,” Ben promised. They were close enough that he could feel Armitage’s heart bouncing against his chest. Somewhere below, deep inside, the baby’s heart was beating, too. “I’m going to take care of you. Both of you.”

They were both shaking a little as they held each other, full of fear and wonder.

“Our lives are going to change,” Ben went on, rubbing a hand along Armitage’s back. “But it’s a good change. It’ll be all right. Whatever happens.”

Suddenly Armitage stiffened. “Oh, pfassk.”

“What?” Ben asked. Through the Force, he sensed a sudden spike of panic lancing through his mate. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized—” Armitage drew back, looking at Ben with wide eyes. “How are we going to tell your mother?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PangolinPirate has created [a beautiful illustration](http://gonna-pop.tumblr.com/post/177874730720/pangolinpirate-an-illustration-for-unexpected-by) of the scene where Armitage takes a pregnancy test. I was amazed to see that this fic inspired someone to make something so lovely.
> 
> re: Armitage’s career — in this au, he was raised by his “kitchen woman” mother, learned to cook from her, and ended up becoming a fancy caterer. he channels all that ingenuity and perfectionism into creating beautifully-presented, delicious food. (I referenced this idea in another fic and wanted to use this story as an opportunity to expand upon it.)
> 
> regular readers of my work can probably guess where this story is headed: there will be some pregnant sex/pregnancy kink in future chapters, though it won’t be the main focus. (if you’re more interested in the domesticity and family drama, you’ll be able to skip the pregnancy kink scenes without missing out on the plot.)
> 
>  **next time:** Ben and Armitage share the news with the family and attempt to come to terms with how their lives will change. Rey plans a baby shower.
> 
> thanks for reading! feel free to visit me [on tumblr](http://gonna-pop.tumblr.com). please note that my usual content is generally kind of gross (definitely not everyone’s cup of tea), and that my blog is strictly for people who are 18 and older.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the warm response to the first chapter! your comments and messages mean a lot. I hope this chapter is worth the wait.
> 
>  **content warnings:** alpha/beta/omega dynamics; mpreg/pregnancy kink; explicit references to dfab anatomy (including words like “cunt”); piv sex; breast play/lactation kink (the lactation is just fantasy for now); morning sickness/vomiting; references to weight gain; references to miscarriage; references to abortion
> 
> I understand that this may not work for all readers. I want to minimize the chances of someone being inadvertently triggered while reading, so please mind the tags, consider how they might interact with your own triggers/sensitivities/preferences, and read safely.

Ben woke to the sound of Armitage being loudly sick in the ‘fresher attached to their bedroom.

He rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen for a cup of water before anything else. He returned to their ‘fresher and rapped lightly on the door. Hearing no objections, he slipped inside.

The ‘fresher was dark, except for the strip of soft white auxiliary lighting that ran along the bottom of the wall. Armitage was hunched over the toilet, coughing and spitting into the bowl, a few strands of hair plastered to his sweaty forehead.

Seeing him in this state made something clench inside Ben’s chest. He had to remind himself that there was such a thing as normal morning sickness, that most pregnant humans were not debilitated by nausea for months on end. Maybe they would be lucky, just this once. Maybe things would be normal.

Kneeling on the floor beside him, Ben offered the cup. “Drink,” he said.

Armitage swished a mouthful of water and spat into the toilet, grimacing. Then he took a cautious sip and handed the cup back to Ben, making no move to rise.

“If I boil some mealgrain, do you think you’d be able to eat it?” Ben asked. He couldn’t think of a blander food.

“I don’t know.” Armitage’s voice was faint. He shut his eyes and rested his cheek against the toilet seat, a testament to how awful he must feel.

“You should try.” During the other pregnancies, the doctor recommended that Armitage try to eat a few small meals throughout the day, even though most of it came back up. Anything in his stomach was better than nothing.

“What time is it?” Armitage asked, without opening his eyes.

“Early,” Ben assured him, rubbing his back. For Armitage, the day always started around the crack of dawn; it wasn’t unusual for him to be at the kitchen hours before the kids woke up for school. “You don’t have to be anywhere yet.”

“I should start getting around.”

“You should stay home.”

Armitage lifted his head enough to shake it. “No, I can’t possibly—”

“The doctor said to take it easy,” Ben reminded him.

“We have two different cocktail parties tonight. And I have a meeting with—”

“Let Cardinal handle it today. Think of the baby.”

Armitage peeled one eye open and looked up at Ben. “I suppose I should get used to hearing that daily for the next seven months,” he said.

“Oh, longer than that,” Ben promised.

 

***

 

It took some coaxing, but Armitage eventually agreed to spend the day resting. He called Cardinal and then returned to bed, while Ben practiced his katas in the cool green shade of the garren trees that surrounded their house.

A few hours later, Ben convinced him to eat a few bites of boiled mealgrain and a digestive biscuit. He spent the rest of the morning on the sofa, watching old episodes of _Republic Medcenter_ with Poppy and pestering one of his employees, Dopheld, for updates about the preparation for tonight’s events, until Ben confiscated his comlink.

When Teo emerged from his bedroom at last, he paused in the middle of the sitting room to squint at Armitage. “What’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?” Armitage asked with a frown, turning to look at him over the back of the sofa. “Are you so shocked to see me during daylight hours?”

“Yeah, kind of. Especially because you look like hell,” Teo said.

“Your concern is touching,” Armitage deadpanned. “Everything’s fine. I just have a… stomach bug, I think.”

Teo hummed. “Since you’re not using it today, can I borrow your speeder?”

“What’s wrong with yours?”

“Nothing. Yours is just nicer,” Teo said with a shrug.

“Where are you going?” Ben asked. He had sort of envisioned the four of them spending the day at home together, which they didn’t normally have the chance to do now that the kids were older and busier. “I’m cooking squallburgers for lunch.”

Teo looked visibly conflicted. He loved squallburgers. “Save me one?” he asked, with the pleading smile he’d perfected as a little boy.

Whatever Han said about Armitage being too indulgent with their children, Ben was just as guilty: After his mate agreed to let Teo borrow the speeder (making him promise not to scratch or ding it and to obey all posted speed limits), Ben promised to set aside leftovers from lunch. He also transferred forty credits to Teo’s chip, without being asked.

“He’s probably picking up his little girlfriend,” Ben commented later, taking the package of ground squall meat out of the fridge, and grabbing a bottle of vitajuice for Armitage. He needed to keep his electrolytes up. “If I make you burger, will you eat it?”

“If it’s unseasoned, probably. And practically burned,” Armitage said, after a moment’s consideration. Then he blinked as Ben handed him the bottle. “Wait—what girlfriend?”

“You know, the Twi’lek he plays crashball with.” Ben had only met the girl a couple of times, in passing. She was more than a head shorter than Teo, athletic, with powder blue skin. “Aola. Pretty sure that’s her name.”

“Why don’t I know about her?”

“I thought you did. Anyway, it’s not a big deal. Don’t make it one.”

“I’m not,” Armitage said, a little defensive. He uncapped the juice bottle and took a sip, frowning. “I just thought he’d tell me about something like that.”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t think there’s much to tell yet. And even if there were—I mean, you’ve talked to him already. He knows how to be safe.”

Teo was an omega, like Armitage. (Omega status was recessive, but Ben carried the gene, inherited from Han.) Last winter, he went through his first heat. It was a long, awkward week at their house, which Teo spent alternately holed up in his room or locked in the refresher. He wouldn’t talk to anyone but Armitage.

At that age, Armitage assured Ben, a heat was more uncomfortable than anything else, nothing like the burning delirium of adult heats. It was like practice, probably not even fertile. Still, Teo began taking suppressants soon after, and Armitage had a long, almost certainly excruciating talk with him about heat cycles and mating and pregnancy.

Teo had learned about human biology and sexuality at school, but there were some things he couldn’t learn in class. There appeared to be a genetic component to Armitage’s pregnancy sickness; if Teo had a baby someday, he might experience the same problems. Because of the widespread myth that all omegas had easy pregnancies, it was important that Teo be aware of what could happen.

“Yes, well,” Armitage muttered. He glanced into the sitting room, as if to make sure Poppy was still in her bedroom, where she’d disappeared a few minutes ago. Then he dropped his voice. “I’m not exactly in a position to lecture him about birth control, am I? I suppose I could be a cautionary tale…”

Ben snorted. Then he gave Armitage a more serious look. “When are you going to let yourself be happy about this?” he asked.

Armitage hesitated. “I’m not unhappy,” he said at last, delicately, and Ben sensed that he was telling the truth. He also sensed a dull, humming anxiety that radiated from his mate almost all the time. “It’s just a bit early to get excited. Anything could happen.”

That made sense to Ben: Armitage was just ten weeks along; they lost the other pregnancy around this time. Ben suspected that Armitage didn’t want to look too far ahead, in case it didn’t last.

Though Ben was also keenly aware of how precarious this stage was, he struggled to guard his heart. He kept thinking back to his dream, his vision. In bed at night, he listened to his mate’s steady breathing and reached out gently with the Force, searching for some sign of the baby growing inside him, needing some assurance that this was real.

He probably wouldn’t feel the baby’s life force for a few more weeks. That was the case with Poppy and Teo; he never sensed them until the second trimester. But he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out.

“Exactly,” Ben said now, touching a hand to Armitage’s belly, just lightly. When he imagined the child they hoped to have this time next year, dark-haired and dark-eyed, he couldn’t help but smile. “Anything.”

 

***

 

Two weeks later, they heard the heartbeat again.

Ben almost cried when he saw the hologram, squeezing his mate’s hand. The little smudge looked more human now, with arms and legs and a bright, steady heart. It wiggled now and then, and apparently, the tiny, newly-formed fingers and toes were beginning to curl.

Armitage shushed Ben’s sniffling, but his eyes were damp, too, and he was smiling.

It was a relief to have made it through the riskiest stage, but that wasn’t the end of their worries. The pregnancy was considered high risk, and there was a high chance that Armitage would deliver early again. Doctor Keeva wanted to see him monthly for his regular appointment, and then more frequently as he got further along. She also referred him to a perinatologist, who would likely want to see him at least twice a month.

Ben knew that Armitage probably have a hard time juggling his work with an increasing number of prenatal appointments, but it was all part of keeping the baby inside him for as long as possible. If all went according to plan, they would welcome their child in late winter, around Life Day.

After some discussion, Ben and Armitage agreed to tell the kids that night, over dinner. It should be a casual conversation, Armitage said, in a relaxed setting, where Teo and Poppy would feel free to ask questions.

Teo seemed put out at being asked to stay home on a Zhellday when he was still on break from school; possibly, he had to cancel a date with Aola at the last minute. Ben found his reluctance somewhat disheartening. Maybe Han was right, and Teo was eager to get off Chandrila and start his own life.

There was a time, not so long ago, when Teo always wanted to be wherever Ben was: practicing lightsaber forms, or working on his speeder, or running household errands. He used to tell his classmates that his father was a racing pilot and a swordsman and a prince, making Ben sound like a character from a holonovel. (Grade-school kids were not always convinced that Teo’s stories were true, and they were unlikely to recognize Ben when he picked Teo and Poppy up from school; their parents were a different story.)

Ben had never thought it would stay like that forever, of course. Children had to grow up sometime. But he had not anticipated the sting of losing the simple, perfect closeness that existed between them when Teo was small and Ben did not yet have any flaws or frailties in his eyes.

The older Ben got, the better he understood Han.

After some debate, Ben and Armitage settled on spiceloaf for dinner (easy on the catabar, in deference to Armitage’s heightened sense of smell). It was a familiar favorite; the kids grew up eating Han’s recipe, which he had taught to Ben.

Midway through the meal, Armitage cleared his throat and set his fork aside. “Your father and I have some important news to share,” he said.

Poppy and Teo exchanged a worried glance from opposite sides of the table. “We know,” Poppy said mournfully, after a moment. “You’re getting divorced.”

Ben choked a little on a sip of water. “What? No, we’re not.”

Teo looked at him in surprise. “You’re not?”

“No. We are not getting divorced,” Armitage said, enunciating clearly. He furrowed his brow and looked between the kids. “Where did you get that idea?”

“You went on vacation without us,” Poppy said, as if that explained anything. “You’ve never done that before.”

“We thought it was, like, a last-ditch effort to save your marriage or something,” Teo said. Ben suspected that the kids had made several wild leaps in logic before arriving at this conclusion. “And it obviously didn’t work, because you’ve been acting weird ever since you got back.”

“And tonight, you made spiceloaf,” Poppy added, her tone vaguely accusing. “It was suspicious.”

“Since when is spiceloaf suspicious?” Ben asked, a little miffed. He’d put a lot of effort into cooking dinner, making sure it was perfect, and his children had interpreted it as some kind of threat. “You love spiceloaf.”

“Exactly,” she replied.

“We thought you made it to, you know, soften the blow or something,” Teo said.

“I see,” Armitage said slowly. There was a crease between his eyebrows. “Well, I think you’ll be pleased to know it’s nothing like that.”

Teo and Poppy looked at each other again, silently conferring. While they couldn’t hear each other’s thoughts, at least as far as Ben knew, they had a lifetime of practice at interpreting the shape of each other’s feelings. It made communication easier in some ways, and more complicated in others.

“So if you’re not getting divorced, what’s the big deal?” Teo asked.

Armitage inhaled slowly through his nose, as though bracing himself, and Ben felt a sudden desire to reach across the table and squeeze his hand. He settled for nudging his mate’s foot under the table, reassuringly; Armitage nudged back. It would be all right, Ben reasoned. They’d practiced this, rehearsed several possible conversations.

“I’m pregnant,” Armitage said at last.

For a moment, neither of the kids reacted, like they hadn’t quite heard him. Then Teo laughed uncomfortably. “Okay, for real,” he said. “What did you want to tell us?”

“This is serious, Teo,” Ben told him.

“Wait, really?” Poppy was looking back and forth between her parents, warily, like she thought one of them was about to admit that the whole thing was a joke. “You’re having a baby?”

Armitage nodded. “In about six months, yes.”

“But… how?” Teo sputtered. He stared at Armitage in disbelief. “You’re way too old.”

“In fact, I am not,” Armitage said crisply. He seemed to be making an effort not to grimace. “Now, I know this must come as a surprise. You probably have questions—”

“Did you do it on purpose, or was it an accident?” Poppy broke in. Her eyes were dark and bright, more curious than anything else. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet? Am I going to have to share my room?”

“You’re not actually going through with this, are you?” Teo asked. With his brow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin, concerned line, he looked very much like Armitage.

That made Armitage pause, a little defensive, his mouth twisting into a nearly identical frown. “What sort of question is that?”

“A really good one,” Teo contended. “I mean, have you seen a doctor yet? There’s no way this is safe.”

“I understand your concern. But I’ll be closely monitored—”

“What if you have it early? Or what if it has horrible birth defects, because you’re too old?”

“Teo,” Ben said, a note of warning in his voice.

Armitage kept his expression carefully neutral, but his neck was rapidly turning blotchy red, and Ben could sense his heart pounding. “This is hardly the reaction I was expecting from you,” he said, his voice taut.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, after all that talk about how dangerous it was before.” Teo was shaking his head. “This is a horrible idea—”

“That’s enough,” Ben said, more sharply than he meant to, and Teo’s mouth snapped shut.

A moment passed, uncomfortably silent. Poppy didn’t seem to know where to look, and Ben didn’t know what to say.

Armitage rose from his seat, chair scraping against the floor. “Well,” he said. “I think I’m finished.”

Teo grimaced. “Dad—”

“I don’t need to hear any more from you tonight,” Armitage said stiffly, which made Teo redden. “You’ve made yourself quite clear.”

Ben almost reached for him as he turned to leave the kitchen, then decided to let him go.

 

***

 

Ben cleaned up after dinner, with Poppy’s help. Meanwhile, Teo disappeared into his room, angry and embarrassed. He would need some time to calm down, Ben thought, but after that, he hoped they could talk.

Standing at the sink with Poppy, the dishwater splashing softly, Ben was a little startled by how tall she was getting. Barely fourteen, she was almost the same height as Rey. She looked more like her father all the time, and would probably reach his eye level in the next few years. Stars, Ben remembered when he could scoop her up using just one arm.

“So did you do it on purpose?” she asked eventually, glancing up at him.

Ben realized they’d neglected to answer her rush of questions. “No,” he told her simply, scrubbing at a stubborn bit of residue on the spiceloaf pan. “It was a surprise to us, too.”

She seemed to accept that. “Will I have to share my room?”

“We’ll turn the guest room into the baby’s room.” Of course, the baby would sleep with Ben and Armitage in their room for at least six months. Longer, if Armitage was still nursing at night. “And we’ll know the gender in a few weeks. You’ll be able to sense it.”

“Through the Force?”

“Yeah. You’ll get to know the baby before it’s even born. It’s pretty cool,” he said.

That was an understatement, really. Ben remembered vividly the moment he sensed Poppy, on a cold blue morning when he and Armitage were curled up together in bed, half asleep.

Armitage had been so sick. Almost five months pregnant, his belly was barely round, but Poppy was growing safely inside him. She pulsed in the Force like a heartbeat, steady and gentle. It was a comfort in the weeks that followed, when Armitage was confined to bed, so worried for her that he could barely sleep. Ben would place a hand on his belly and tell him about their daughter.

Poppy hummed, looking thoughtful. “And…” She hesitated. “Is Dad okay? I mean, is it safe for him?”

For a moment, Ben considered his words. “As safe as it can be,” he said at last. “He’s got good doctors. Everything’s fine so far. But he’s going need us to help take care of him. Make things a little easier on him at home.”

Poppy nodded, a look of determination on her face. “I can do that,” she said.

Ben managed a smile. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head. “That’s my girl.”

He found Armitage lying on their bed with the lights dimmed: exhausted, but awake. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes. Armitage tensed at the sound of the door opening, then relaxed when he realized it was just Ben, rolling onto his back with a sigh.

“I talked to Poppy,” Ben said quietly. He sat on the bed beside his mate. “She’s okay. She’s not mad, at least.”

“And Teo?”

“Holed up in his room.”

Looking pained, Armitage said, “Can’t you talk to him?”

“I will, when he’s cooled off a little. It’ll be fine,” Ben felt compelled to add.

Armitage sniffed. “I don’t know what I expected,” he said, his voice thick and miserable. Ben noticed that his eyes were puffy. “Teo’s right. I put all kinds of horrible ideas in his head, and now it’s come back to haunt me.”

Ben stared at him. “Have you been crying?”

“No,” Armitage said, a blatant lie. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s the hormones, that’s all. I didn’t want to get worked up in front of the kids. I’m being ridiculous—”

“Hey—” Ben took him by the wrist and gently pulled his hand away from his face. “You were hoping they’d be excited. Of course you want that.”

“But it is unrealistic. What teenager wants to deal with a newborn?”

“They’ll come around. Both of them.” He tried to sound more confident than he felt.

“What if they don’t?” Armitage asked. In the soft light, his eyes looked dark and liquid. “What if we’re making a mistake?”

“We aren’t,” Ben promised. “You’ll see.”

If Armitage believed him, he didn’t say so.

 

***

 

After midnight, Ben sensed activity somewhere in the other side of the house.

He rolled over, groggy. Armitage was asleep beside him, breathing slow and deep. Somehow, he looked more exhausted like this than he did while he was awake.

Ben groped for the bedside console and checked the security program. Sure enough, someone was in the garage. The door had been unlocked from the inside and the lights were on.

He eased out of bed slowly, so as not to disturb Armitage, and made his way to the garage.

Teo was barefoot on the duracrete floor, wearing sweatpants and an undershirt, moving through a lightsaber sequence. He didn’t seem to notice Ben at first.

After years of practice, Teo knew this sequence by heart: the attacks, parries and turns. It was one of the first that Ben had taught him. The glowing blue blade illuminated his face and threw his shadow across the floor.

“Mind your footwork,” Ben commented.

Though he didn’t reply, Teo was immediately more deliberate as he stepped, pivoted and turned through the sequence. He swept his lightsaber in tight, clean arcs. The only sounds were his breathing, the soft scrape of his feet and the humming of the blade.

Nothing more was said until Teo completed the sequence. When he powered off the lightsaber, not quite looking at Ben, the garage seemed unusually dark.

“Teo,” Ben said.

“What?”

“We need to talk about this.”

When Teo looked at him, his eyes were dark. “You’re really going to let him do this?”

Ben forced himself to take a breath and gather his patience. “I’m not _letting_ him do anything. Your dad and I made this decision together,” he said. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in. I was about your age when my parents adopted Rey. It was a big change, but—”

“That’s different,” Teo said, scowling. “If you were adopting a kid, it wouldn’t matter. But Dad could _die_ from this.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Having Poppy and me almost killed him. He told me all about it.” Teo’s voice was thick with anger and fear. He was gripping the lightsaber so hard that tendons stood out in the back of his hand. “And that was years ago! How much harder will it be this time?”

“Teo—”

“The older you are, the more dangerous it is. Everybody knows that.”

“Which is why his doctors are keeping a close eye on him.”

Teo made a disgusted sound. “You just want a new baby,” he said. “You don’t care what it does to Dad. Kriffing alphas—”

“Teo!” Ben snapped, loudly enough that Teo froze. He rarely raised his voice with the children, so when he did, they knew he was serious. “Decision’s made. We’re having a baby. You don’t have to be happy about it, but you have to find a way to accept it.”

Silent, brimming with frustration, Teo glared at him.

“We all need to support your dad right now,” Ben went on, in a low voice. “And if you can’t do that, then I expect you to keep your opinions to yourself. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, sure,” Teo muttered. His jaw was tight.

“Teo,” Ben said again, softer this time. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually argued with Teo and still have fingers left over. This was new territory for both of them.

But before he could say anything more, Teo turned stiffly away from him, reignited his lightsaber, and began working through another sequence. Whatever Ben wanted to say, Teo didn’t want to hear it.

 

***

 

On clear summer afternoons like this one, the water gardens in the heart of Emita were full of tourists and locals alike. Ben and Rey walked slowly around the edge of one of the biggest ponds, in the shade of the garren trees. She and Rose had arrived on Chandrila just this morning.

The pond was occupied by slow-swimming, opalescent carp, so pale Ben could see the deep pink color of their insides through their translucent skin. Rey watched the fish with undisguised delight as they drifted among floating blue sachi blossoms; she’d never stopped being amazed by the little wonders of life beyond the desert.

“It’s a shame Armie couldn’t join us for lunch,” Rey said, when she and Ben sat together on a nearby bench. She was possibly the only person the galaxy who was allowed to call Ben’s husband “Armie,” not that many others had tried. “I was hoping to catch up with him.”

“He’s working all day,” Ben said with a shrug. “And half the night. We won’t see much of him until the holiday’s over.”

In a few days, the Festival of Liberation would begin, a weeklong fete to commemorate the signing of the Galactic Concordance. It was what brought Rey and Rose planetside. Though the holiday was observed throughout the New Republic, no world was more enthusiastic than Chandrila, where the treaty was signed.

This was by far the busiest time of year for Armitage; preparations started at least six months before the festival, when he began meeting with clients to carefully plan the menus for whatever lavish party they were dreaming up this year. First Order would cater multiple large events, day and night, for a week straight.

Rey wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t he have employees to do things for him? I feel like he’s missing the whole point of being the boss.”

“You and me both,” Ben muttered.

Per the doctor’s orders, Armitage had scaled back a little in recent weeks and promised Ben that he would delegate to his staff. But the remaining work he’d left for himself was still too much, especially under these circumstances; Ben could see how exhausted he was. The Festival of Liberation couldn’t end soon enough, as far as Ben was concerned.

“I almost can’t believe you and the Galactic Concordance are going to be forty-five this year,” Rey said after a while, nudging him with her elbow. Ben’s birthday happened to fall at the end of the holiday week; he was born on the day the Instruments of Surrender were signed. “Almost half a century!”

“Yeah, yeah, make fun while you still can,” Ben said, and bumped her with his shoulder. In truth, Rey seemed almost unfairly young to him, just thirty-four. She was a Jedi, but she was also his kid sister. “You’ll be ancient one day, too.”

“So you’re saying I should show respect for my elders?” she asked with a grin.

Almost thirty years ago, Gannis Ducain managed to steal the _Millennium Falcon_. Han, Chewie and Ben spent the better part of a year tracking the ship from one end of the galaxy to the other. At last, they found it on Jakku, near a shabby little outpost. (They learned later that the ship had changed hands several times: A Crolute called Unkar Plutt had stolen the _Falcon_ from the Irving Boys, who had stolen it from Ducain.)

Hours after they recovered the _Falcon_ , Ben discovered a stowaway in one of the smuggling compartments: a skinny, grimy human girl with her hair in three lopsided buns.

The girl punched Ben in the throat when he hauled her out of the compartment. Then she bolted down the passageway, only to find her path blocked by Chewie, who scooped her up easily, unbothered by the fact that she was kicking and biting like a feral Loth-cat.

Her name turned out to be Rey, and she was seven years old. She only admitted this much after Han bribed her with a loovar candy, a bottle of fruit fizz, and a promise of more if she agreed to settle down and talk.

Rey said she worked for Unkar, running errands and doing little jobs for him in exchange for expired portions and a place to sleep. It sounded to Ben like she was some kind of indentured servant, if not an actual slave. She’d helped Unkar make modifications to the _Falcon_ (which would have to be repaired), because she was small enough to crawl inside the ducts.

She happened to be on board the ship (apparently without Unkar’s permission) when Han, Chewie and Ben stormed onto the _Falcon._ They took off so quickly that she didn’t have time to disembark, so she hid inside one of the smuggling compartments she’d found while working for Unkar, hoping to slip away undetected once they landed.

Ben could tell right away that she was Force sensitive: Rey was a bright spot in his senses, practically glowing with potential. But even if that weren’t the case, they couldn’t possibly turn around and dump her back on Jakku, or cut her loose on the nearest habitable world. She was just a kid, and she needed help. So they brought her with them to Chandrila.

Rey was sullen and closed-off, regularly demanding to go back to Jakku. She claimed that she was waiting for her parents—but if asked where they’d gone, or why they left her with Unkar, or when they planned to return, she was unable to give a clear answer.

Naturally, Leia promised to help locate Rey’s parents. In the meantime, however, she insisted that Rey stay at the family home.

It quickly became apparent that Rey wasn’t like other children her age, beyond her Force sensitivity. A few weeks after she came home, they found a stash of food under her bed: packaged snacks smuggled out of the kitchen in the middle of the night, napkin-wrapped morsels slipped off the dinner table, takeout boxes lifted from the trash when nobody was looking. Little of the food was still edible; some of it was beginning to mold.

Leia and Ben were both shocked by this behavior. Han wasn’t. Instead of scolding Rey, he just took her into the kitchen and showed her where everything was. She could eat whatever she wanted, he told her, any time she liked. There would always be enough, so she didn’t have to hide, stockpile or ration food.

After that, Rey seemed to relax, just a little. (It took years to fully work through her food-related anxieties, but at least she stopped hoarding rotting food under her bed.) Slowly, she started to trust them.

Rey was fascinated by lightsabers. She often followed Ben outside the house, into the gray predawn light, to watch him do his katas: a green blade swirling through the faint morning mist. After a couple of weeks, Ben got her a rattan saber and began to teach her some simple forms.

In the afternoons, Rey often tagged along with Han as he worked in the _Falcon._ She knew which modifications had been made, so he could repair them; she climbed into the engine room with him, handing him tools as he requested them, studying everything he did. Leia took her into the city to buy clothes and sheets and toiletries, and then to the holotheater, which delighted Rey.

The four of them spent a weekend at the dacha, their private lakeside vacation home, which had belonged to Bail Organa before the war. (As a girl, Leia said, she and her parents always stayed at the lake house when they visited Chandrila.) Ben would never forget the look on Rey’s face the first time she saw Lake Sah’ot, glittering in the sun. That weekend, for once, she didn’t mention Jakku at all.

It was three months before Rey admitted to Ben that her parents weren’t coming back. They’d sold her to Unkar for drinking money and never made it far from Niima Outpost, pissing away what little money their daughter had been worth to them.

In tears, Rey said she felt guilty for wasting Leia’s time: She’d allowed Leia to search for her parents, when Rey knew all along that they were buried in the desert.

She really did want to go back to Jakku, she said, at least at first. That nowhere planet might as well have been the whole galaxy to her. But then she came to Chandrila. She found out what it was like to have plenty food and clean water and a safe place to sleep. And then she got to know the Organa-Solos.

Suddenly, the truth seemed too complicated and messy and painful to explain. More than that, Rey was scared that Leia and Han would send her away if they knew where she really came from. There was no place in their beautiful home for a castoff like her.

Within six months, Rey’s adoption was finalized.

The four of them were happy, of course, but they still went through an adjustment period. Ben and Rey struggled to relate to each other in the beginning. He was ten years older than his new sister, nearly an adult, unsure of his role in her life. He’d never expected to be anyone’s brother.

But, as Han pointed out, at least Rey wasn’t a baby when she joined the family. The two of them could actually talk and get to know each other. They watched HoloTV, and went swimming, and practiced lightsaber forms together. In time, they bonded. Now Ben couldn’t imagine his life without Rey.

It wouldn’t be like that for Poppy and Teo, he realized.

Ben’s stomach dropped when he thought of it. Just as the new baby was getting old enough to talk and toddle around, Poppy would be off to university. Teo would be long gone by then, of course, nearly done with school and preparing to embark on his adult life.

Teo and Poppy enjoyed a close relationship now in part because they grew up together. Only a few years apart in age, they shared most of the same childhood memories and experiences. In fact, Teo probably couldn’t remember a time before he had a sister. That was how Ben and Armitage had planned it; they’d never intended for there to be a large gap between their children.

But as it was, he struggled to imagine what kind of relationship Poppy and Teo could build with their much younger sibling. They might barely know each other.

“Ben,” Rey said slowly, studying him. Her eyes were thoughtful and dark. “You seem a little out of it today. Something going on?”

He hesitated, but he knew Rey could sense his preoccupation. They would have to tell everyone eventually, he reasoned. Might as well practice on someone he trusted. “Armitage is pregnant,” he said.

There. Now it was out in the galaxy.

Rey laughed. But when Ben didn’t say anything more, her smile slowly faded. “You’re not kidding,” she said.

“No.”

“But… how? Isn’t he too old?”

The back of Ben’s neck prickled with heat. “Apparently not.”

“Kriff.” Rey slumped a little lower onto the bench. “Is he keeping it?”

Ben felt himself tense. “Of course. Why wouldn’t he?”

“He had such a hard time with Teo and Poppy,” she said, shrugging. “And he’s older now. It’s just a little… worrying, that’s all.”

“We’re going to have it,” Ben told her, firmly. Barring any complications, at least. They’d made it through the first trimester, but there were still many months to go. Nothing was guaranteed.

Rey paused. “Should I offer my congratulations?”

“You did last time,” Ben pointed out. “And the time before that.”

She was just seventeen when Teo was born, thrilled about becoming an aunt. From the beginning, she was an enthusiastic babysitter. A few years later, she was happy to learn that they were expecting Poppy, though none of them realized just how difficult the pregnancy and first few months of her life would be.

When Armitage was prescribed strict bed rest after his first preterm labor scare, Rey came by almost daily to drop off a meal, or wash a load of laundry, or simply visit with Armitage, who was going mad with boredom, frustration and worry. Ben had replaced their sofa with one that unfolded into a bed, so Armitage could lie there during the day and not feel totally isolated from the rest of the household. He and Rey used to play dejarik in the sitting room, with the board set up on the mattress between them.

Rey was especially helpful with Teo, often taking him out for the day or entertaining him at home so Ben could run errands and get things done around the house. Because he was only three, Teo struggled to understand why Armitage wasn’t his usual self, unable to play with him or even get out of bed. Ben once overheard Rey carefully explaining that Armitage had to lie down and rest “to keep the baby from falling out and hitting her head,” which Teo seemed to accept as logical.

“It’s just that this is so unexpected,” Rey said now, delicately. “I wasn’t sure what I should say.”

Ben was quickly realizing that most people in their lives were going to think this baby was a mistake. “Yeah, well,” he muttered. “Don’t spread it around. And when we make it official, pretend you don’t think it’s a horrible idea.”

“Come on, Ben, I don’t think that,” Rey said. She leaned her chin on her hand, watching him. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. I know you always wanted more children. It’s just… surprising. And a little worrying, with your track record. How far along is he?”

“About three months.”

“Really?” She blinked. “Is he not so sick this time?”

“He’s had some morning sickness, but nothing like before. It’s easing up,” Ben reported. “We’re, you know. Cautiously optimistic.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Rey said, brightening a little. “Do the kids know?”

He nodded. “Poppy doesn’t know what to think yet. Teo is…”

“Mortified that his parents still have sex?”

That made Ben laugh, and he was a little grateful. “That, too, probably. He didn’t take it well.”

“It must be a big shock.”

“He thinks Armitage should have an abortion. Made it pretty clear.”

Rey grimaced. “I’m sure he doesn’t really mean that,” she said.

“No, he does,” Ben said with a sigh. Things had quieted down at home in the last few days, but only because there had been little talk of the baby. Teo’s feelings remained unchanged. “And I get it. He’s scared. But it’s not helping the situation.”

“He just needs time to get used to the idea,” Rey said. “He’ll come around.”

“Kriff, I hope so. Armitage doesn’t need the stress, on top of everything else.”

Rey hummed in agreement. “Speaking of stress,” she said, glancing at him. “When are you going to tell Mom?”

“Ideally? Six weeks after the baby is born,” Ben said.

She laughed. “Seriously, you should make a plan and tell her soon,” she said. “If Mom senses something before you make an announcement, or finds out from somebody else, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Stars, Ben could already hear Leia’s complaint—that he had been wildly irresponsible to breed Armitage again, at his age and with his delicate health.

That would be a common sentiment, he sensed, and not totally unfair. People would think him demanding. Selfish. Armitage had two difficult pregnancies and two premature births; an alpha who continued to breed such an omega was a poor mate.

“I’ll never hear the end of it regardless,” Ben told Rey, shaking his head.

Suddenly, Rey gasped and grabbed his wrist, like she’d just had a premonition of danger. Her eyes were dark and bright. “Ben,” she said urgently. “Do you think Armie will let me plan his baby shower?”

 

***

 

“Do I look pregnant in this?” Armitage asked, by way of greeting, as Ben walked into their bedroom. He was wearing a loose green tunic over narrow black pants.

Ben hesitated, carefully shutting the door behind him. Teo had taken Poppy to the holotheater, so they were alone in the house for at least a few hours, but it had become habit over the years. Children, even older ones, tended to barge in at inopportune times.

“Uh. Well,” Ben said slowly, looking Armitage up and down.

With Teo and Poppy, Armitage barely showed for months, partly because he was sick and rapidly losing weight. This time, however, at just fourteen weeks, he had a small but undeniable bump. Ben noticed it when he watched Armitage get dressed in the morning: the slight swell of his lower belly, quickly hidden under loose clothes. But that wouldn’t be possible for much longer. Even the draped tunic he wore now couldn’t completely disguise it.

Armitage sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he muttered, turning to the closet and rifling through his clothes.

“What’s the matter?”

“When I see your whole family next week, I’d rather not have to explain that I’m up the duff.”

“You could skip the party, if you’re that worried,” Ben said.

“I can’t do that,” Armitage said immediately, scandalized. “It’s the only chance I’ll have to see you on your birthday.”

That made Ben smile. “You can make it up to me later, on the island,” he said. “I’ll let you cook for me—something really complicated. How’s that?”

After the holiday, Armitage always took a few days off, so he and Ben could pack up the kids and go to the beach house on Sarini Island. It gave them a chance to unwind before the kids went back to school the following we. This year, Ben thought, Armitage would need the downtime more than ever.

“I suppose,” Armitage said, looking thoughtful. “We could take the boat out. Make a day of it.”

“Anyway,” Ben went on, “pretty soon, you’re going to look pregnant in everything. People are going to notice something’s different.”

“They’ll just assume I’m getting fat. Which I am, by the way.”

“That’s not true.”

Armitage scowled. “Look at me. I’m already enormous,” he said.

“But you’re not fat. You’re carrying my child,” Ben told him, diplomatically, which made Armitage roll his eyes. “That said…”

“What?”

“You’re starting to smell different.” Ben was probably the only one who had picked up on the subtle changes so far, but after a certain point, the smell of a pregnant omega was unmistakable. Even if Armitage’s belly didn’t give it away, his scent would. “At some point, we’re going to have to make an announcement.”

“Alternatively, we could move to Glee Anselm without telling anyone and come back six months after the baby is born,” Armitage replied.

Ben hummed. “Points for ingenuity,” he said, moving to sit on the edge of their bed. “But I’m pretty sure our family will wonder where we went.”

“Good point. They’re unbelievably nosy.”

“Call me crazy, but I think you kind of like that about them,” Ben said.

By now, of course, Ben’s family had become Armitage’s family, as well, even if he wasn’t always comfortable acknowledging it out loud. Aside from Ben and the kids, the remaining Organa-Solos were the only family Armitage had.

His father, Commandant Brendol Hux, was an Imperial of some note; he ran the officer’s academy at Arkanis and pioneered the stormtrooper training program. His mother, Willa, worked in the industrial kitchen at the academy. She was seventeen when Armitage was born.

Armitage didn’t have much to say about the years he spent on Arkanis. As Ben understood it, he lived with his mother in a one-room dwelling on the academy grounds—distant enough that Brendol’s wife could pretend neither of them existed, but close enough that they were both firmly under Brendol’s thumb.

The war changed everything. Arkanis came under siege and eventually fell to the New Republic. To save his own skin, Brendol traded valuable intelligence to the Rebel Alliance in exchange for immunity in the inevitable war crimes trials. As part of the deal, he was required to spend the rest of his life on Arkanis.

Willa used that opportunity to get offworld with Armitage, where Brendol couldn’t follow. They spent a few years roving from system to system in the postwar chaos, until Willa found steady work in a restaurant on Caamas. She taught Armitage to cook.

Of course, Ben only knew Willa from Armitage’s stories and a handful of holos. She died of Knowt’s disease, a degenerative condition, when Armitage was twenty-three. He was alone after that, at least until he met Ben.

With a sigh, Armitage pulled off his tunic and set it aside. Beneath, he wore a tight white singlet with narrow straps. It plainly showed his roundness. “Would it look odd if I wore a jumper? I suppose it depends on the weather…”

“Armitage,” Ben said suddenly.

“What?” He paused, half-turning to Ben.

“Your tits.”

Armitage looked down at himself and sighed again. “I know,” he said. “That’s part of the problem. I’d wear something to compress them, but they’ve been so sore lately—”

Ben swallowed, hard. “Come here,” he said, a bit helplessly, and held out his hands.

Looking more curious than confused, Armitage came to stand in front of him, between his legs. The late afternoon light pouring through the window edged him in white and soft gold.

Normally, Armitage had only the merest suggestion of tits; he was almost totally flat-chested. But his breasts were a little bigger now. Fuller. His nipples were darker, too, a dusky pink, faintly visible through the thin white fabric.

Ben was entranced. He lifted his gaze, questioning. “Can I…?”

Armitage shrugged. “If you like,” he said.

Ben slid the narrow strap off one shoulder, then the other, and slowly pulled the singlet down far enough to bare Armitage’s small, pert breasts. “Pfassk, look at you,” he said, openly admiring, while Armitage scoffed and glanced away. “They’re sore?”

“Mmm, yes. And tight.”

“Too sore for this?” Ben cupped his mate’s breasts, gently thumbing his nipples. They felt agreeably warm and firm; Ben was already half hard.

“No,” Armitage said, swallowing. He shivered a little as his nipples stiffened under Ben’s touch. They were always sensitive, but never more so than when he was pregnant.

Not that they’d ever had the chance to fully explore that sensitivity together: During pregnancy, Armitage was generally too sick to fool around; while nursing, he complained of tenderness and sore nipples, and too much fondling triggered his let-down reflex. But right now…

Ben was fully hard as he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to his mate’s breasts, one and then the other. He kneaded gently, picturing how much bigger they would be in a few months. Above him, Armitage sighed in pleasure, sliding one hand into Ben’s hair.

After he gave birth and his milk came in, Armitage would wake in the middle of the night, full and leaking, soaked nightshirt clinging to his tits. Just the smell of milk on his skin drove Ben wild, but Armitage rarely let him have a taste.

Remembering how sweet it was, Ben licked at one rosy nipple, then took it into his mouth and sucked.

Armitage gasped, fingers tightening in Ben’s hair.

Ben drew back immediately. “Did that hurt?”

“No, no. I mean—yes. But—” Armitage was red-faced, half embarrassed and half aroused. “I’m a little sensitive, that’s all.”

“I get it,” Ben said. Face upturned, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and lapped at Armitage’s nipple. When he began to suckle again, gently, his mate’s breathing hitched, and his eyes fell shut.

After half a minute, Armitage peeled off the singlet entirely, pushed Ben onto his back, and climbed on top of him. “Did you lock the door?”

Ben extended one hand toward the bedroom door and used the Force to engage the lock. Then he yanked his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside, before leaning up to kiss Armitage with his mouth open.

In a tangle of limbs, they struggled to pull off the rest of their clothes, losing them somewhere among the sheets as they rolled over. Ben put his hands everywhere he could reach, stroking and squeezing, nibbling at his mate’s jaw. Armitage pressed their bodies together almost desperately, like he couldn’t get close enough; Ben felt the curve of Armitage’s belly, the yield of his soft breasts.

They’d never done this, Ben realized: never had sex while Armitage was pregnant. Any kind of intimacy was a struggle when Armitage was so sick; just the smell of Ben’s skin often turned his stomach. Their one attempt at a blowjob, during the first pregnancy, ended with gagging and frustrated tears. Even kissing was impossible.

Ben thrilled at the mere thought of making love to his mate like this; he ached for it. They rolled over again, and then Armitage was beneath him: naked and flushed, with a kiss-reddened mouth, chest heaving.

Noticing Ben’s interest, Armitage lifted his hands and pushed his small breasts together, creating a channel between them. For a moment, Ben was too stunned by the invitation to react. Blood roared in his ears. He could see the pulse at Armitage’s pale throat, fluttering like a moon moth’s wings.

Then Ben sat up, fumbling one-handed for the bedside console, until he came up with a bottle of lube. He squirted a generous measure into his palm and slicked himself. Better too much than too little.

He moved over Armitage slowly and straddled him, careful not to rest any of his weight on his mate’s belly. Then, somewhat gingerly, he guided his cock between Armitage’s tits, moaning a little as he pushed between.

It was tighter than he’d expected, enough to make his eyes flutter briefly closed. He rocked his hips once, twice, establishing a rhythm. “I love your tits,” he said breathlessly. “Pfassk. You’re perfect—”

Armitage was making soft little noises as Ben fucked his tits, like this felt good to him, too. Maybe he just liked the sight of it: Ben’s cock, red and stiff, sliding wetly between his soft white breasts.

Ben’s orgasm took him almost by surprise; he made a strangled noise as it peaked, feeling as if it had been punched out of him. The first thick shot of come spattered Armitage’s throat, catching his chin and the corner of his mouth. Ben pulled back, stroking himself, just in time to pulse across his mate’s chest.

He looked good like this, Ben thought. Like a dream come true, almost: rounded belly and fuller breasts, striped with Ben’s come, in the golden afternoon light that spilled across their bed.

Breathing hard, Ben collapsed gratefully beside Armitage. Then he rolled over to kiss him again and reached between his thighs. Armitage was wet and responsive; it took barely a minute of steady rubbing before he went taut as a wire, whining into Ben’s mouth, and then melted into the sheets.

Eventually, Ben got up to fetch some warm washcloths; Armitage let Ben tenderly wipe the come from his face and throat and breasts. They both got dressed, somewhat reluctantly and just enough to be decent, and promptly returned to bed, curling up together.

“We should really think about making an announcement,” Ben said, after a while. The house was still empty but for them. The sun was dipping lower, stretching the shadows. “Before it gets obvious.”

Armitage made a vague noise of objection. “I’d rather wait.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” Armitage said, in a low voice. He shifted a little, uncomfortably, like the mere thought was unbearable.

Ben hummed. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, kissing Armitage’s freckled shoulder. “Everyone’s going to know we had sex. Imagine the scandal.”

“I mean it, Ben. People will think we’re irresponsible, having a baby at our age. Kriff, I can almost see the headlines.”

That gave Ben pause. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Armitage. “Are you ashamed of our baby?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Ben placed a hand on Armitage’s belly, thinking of the sweet, aching hours they’d spent knotted together, and the decades they’d shared before that. “When we made her, it was the most natural thing in the world. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Armitage seemed to study him for a moment. “Her?”

“I’m just saying.” Ben felt certain that they were expecting another daughter, though it would be some time before he could sense her in the Force. “We don’t have to hide this.”

That made Armitage huff. “You just want everyone to know how frighteningly virile you are,” he muttered. Then, slowly, almost cautiously, he laid his hand over Ben’s, which still rested on his belly. “I like our privacy. I want to hold off a little longer, if we can. Keep it just for us.”

Ben thought he understood. In the past, Armitage’s health always forced them to tell the family sooner than they would’ve liked. They’d never publicly confirmed any past pregnancies, but some two-credit holoreporter inevitably sussed it out, and suddenly, what should’ve been an intimate time in their lives was fair game for speculation all over the HoloNet.

It had never felt like the experience belonged only to them. But this time, Ben realized, maybe it could.

“Okay,” Ben said at last, leaning down to kiss him. “If that’s what you want, then I can wait.”

 

***

 

Returning to Lake Sah’ot was a little like stepping back into a memory.

No matter how many years passed, or how much Ben changed, he could rely upon the dacha to be the same as it was when he was a boy, like an old friend waiting for him at the bottom of the road.

This time of year, the garden surrounding the dacha yielded hindian pears, grappaberries and topatoes, which the family ate during long-ago vacations by the lake. Han could prepare topatoes about twenty different ways; when they were all you could afford, he said, you got creative. (It turned out that he and Armitage had that in common. They swapped recipes.)

The tintolive trees were strung with multicolored lights, which would illuminate the garden after sunset. A few branches had been cut and used for centerpieces and to hang above doorways. Chairs and benches were set up under the trees, so the more than two dozen people expected to attend this gathering would have places to sit and talk late into the night.

Ben could see the glimmer of the lake from the garden, through the gently swaying trees. Laughter and happy screaming echoed across the water. Most of the commotion sounded like the kids (between the Organas, Damerons, Wexleys and everyone else, there were quite a few kids, of various ages) and some of it sounded like Rey, who gloried in her role as the “fun aunt.”

“Think fast!”

Ben turned in time to see Poe emerge from the house and toss him a can of ryll beer, which he caught handily. It was barely noon, but it was also Ben’s birthday, so he tapped the beer can against Poe’s and cracked it open.

“Happy Liberation Day,” Poe said with an easy grin, before they both took a drink.

The Damerons always joined them for major holidays like this one. Poe was family, or close enough that it made no difference. His parents had fought beside Leia and Han in the war; he and Ben grew up together, even dated for a while as teenagers.

Now Poe was a pilot in the New Republic Defense Fleet, the leader of Rapier Squadron, which patrolled the Mirrin sector. He was married to Finn, another alpha. Over the years, the Damerons had adopted four children: two human sons and two nonhuman daughters. Their kids were practically cousins to Poppy and Teo.

The two of them had been standing under the tintolive trees for a few minutes when Teo wandered up the garden path with Idona Dameron, a sixteen-year-old Zeltron with jewel-pink skin. Both of them were still wearing their swimsuits, laughing about something Ben couldn’t hear.

“This is Teo’s last year of school, isn’t it?” Poe asked, when the kids had disappeared inside the house. “When did your kids get that old?”

“Speak for yourself. Idona’s getting there, too,” Ben pointed out. All four of the Dameron kids were teenagers. The youngest, Sylvie, was only a year younger than Poppy. “It goes fast.”

Casually, Poe said, “We’ve actually been talking about having one more.”

“Really?” Despite himself, Ben raised his eyebrows.

“I know, I know, it sounds crazy. But we just feel like maybe we’re not done yet,” Poe said, shrugging. “You know what I mean?”

Ben paused. After the miscarriage, he and Armitage decided not to try again. It was a hard choice to make. They both grieved the children they would never have, the future they had envisioned together.

Lately, Ben had started to think of the little one Armitage carried as a gift from the Force.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah, I do.”

“It’d be an older kid,” Poe went on. “Not a baby or a toddler. We’re not _that_ crazy.”

Ben coughed a little. “Right. Well, good for you.”

“One of these days, you guys will go for it,” Poe said wisely.

“Maybe someday.” Ben’s tone was light and noncommittal.

For years, knowing that they weren’t planning to have more biological children, Poe had encouraged them to look into adoption. Armitage always bristled when Poe brought it up: To him, it was a painful reminder that he would never carry another baby. Sometimes it sparked an argument.

 _He’s rubbing my nose in it,_ Armitage had insisted once, years ago, when Ben tried to say that Poe was only trying to help. _Why can’t you see that? He goes out of his way to remind your family that I can’t give you more children, but somehow, I’m the bad guy._

Ben knew better than to suggestive that Armitage was being too sensitive. But in truth, Armitage took virtually everything Poe did or said as a personal attack. He disliked Poe’s easy charm, his past with Ben, his closeness with the family. It was exhausting to deal with Armitage’s insecurities.

Armitage had never approved of Poe’s relationship with Finn, either. When they met, Finn was just twenty-three to Poe’s thirty-two, which Armitage thought was tacky. To this day, he was secretly waiting for their perfect marriage to implode, but at this point, it seemed unlikely to happen.

Though he would never admit it out loud, Ben sensed that Armitage resented the family’s wholehearted support for Finn and Poe’s relationship. Finn instantly became Rey’s best friend. Han took a liking to him and soon offered him a job. Even Leia treated Finn warmly from the start, while she viewed Armitage with thinly-veiled suspicion until she found out he was pregnant and had no choice but to accept him.

“I’m telling you, it’s the best thing you can do for yourselves,” Poe went on, flashing an easy smile. “Kids keep you young.”

Ben huffed. “I sure hope so,” he said, and took a drink.

 

***

 

He sensed Armitage before he saw him: a bloom of warmth in the bond that connected them, heightened by the Force. Standing, he turned in time to see his mate emerge from the dacha.

Armitage wore a dark gray poncho over a lighter tunic, which mostly disguised the bump. To Ben’s eye, he looked thicker through the middle, but other people probably wouldn’t notice.

They kissed hello, a peck on the mouth. Ben immediately wanted to kiss him again. As the weeks went on, he felt increasingly tender toward Armitage. It was a familiar instinct, one that he had to control in public; Armitage said they were too old to paw at each other where anyone could see.

“I thought you were skipping the party,” Ben said.

“I carved out a few hours. It is your birthday, after all,” Armitage said primly. “Surprise.”

Ben hummed. “Does that mean you brought me a present?”

“Is my being here not enough to satisfy you?”

“I can think of something else that would be pretty satisfying.”

“And you’ll get it. At home,” Armitage promised, dropping his voice. “In the meantime, I brought sweetcakes. They’re in the kitchen.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ben said. “You went to so much trouble this morning.”

Armitage had somehow managed to slip out of bed without waking Ben, though Ben had a dim memory of being kissed on the temple and the back of his neck. Maybe he’d dreamed it.

When Ben went into the kitchen, the caf was already brewed. There was an artful spread of sliced fruits and delicate little pastries on the table. He also found a cream-colored paper card on the table, with a message penned in Armitage’s stiff, self-conscious handwriting.

The first time Ben gave him a love letter, about a month into their courtship, Armitage didn’t know what to make of it. He’d assumed the calligraphy was decorative; Ben had to read it to him. When he was done, Armitage was red-faced: embarrassed, but also wanting to make love.

Like most people in the galaxy, Armitage had never used anything but a stylus or a touchpad to type out strings of characters and symbols. Paper was a mystery to him. A luxury. He had a little box where he kept the letters Ben had given him over the years. And rarely, on special occasions, he presented Ben with a paper gift. For Armitage, it was the height of sentimentality.

“It was no trouble, really,” Armitage said now. “I asked Dopheld to make the cakes.”

Laughing, Ben kissed him again. Then he touched Armitage’s shoulder, rubbing the soft gray gaberwool between his fingers. “You’re going to overheat in this,” he said.

Armitage scoffed. “It’s not that warm.”

Ben remained skeptical. The poncho was a fairly heavy garment, more appropriate for rainy autumn weather. “Sit down. I’ll go get you some water—”

Armitage opened his mouth to complain, but stopped short when someone else shouted his name.

They both turned to see Rey trotting across the garden toward them. She’d been swimming with the kids, and her hair was still damp, pulled back in a loose braid. She made a beeline for Armitage, arms open.

“Ben didn’t tell me you were coming,” she said, standing on her toes so she could hug him properly.

“Well, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I’ve been cooking all day.”

Rey drew back and gave him a sly smile. “Right. Working on that bun in your oven,” she said.

“Excuse me?” Armitage looked like thought he’d misheard.

“The baby! I couldn’t believe it when Ben told me,” Rey said. Now that she’d had a little time to process, she seemed to have mustered her normal enthusiasm. But when Armitage continued to stare at her, she paused, looking uncertain. “Oh. Am I not supposed to know that?”

Ben felt himself pale as Armitage shot him a hard, accusing look. He wasn’t sure how he’d walk this back. “I, ah—”

“Don’t be upset, Armie. He only wanted to share the good news,” Rey said quickly. “I swear I haven’t told anyone. Not even Rose.”

Armitage grimaced. “Rey—”

“I wanted to say that I’m happy for you,” she went on. “I mean it. You know how much I love your kids. And I know this is a big deal for you. The biggest deal.”

That made him sigh. “Rey,” he said again, softer.

Smiling, she took him by the arm and steered him toward the house. “Come on, let’s go inside,” she said. “Rose says somebody brought sweetcakes…”

 

***

 

A few hours later found Ben walking a slow circuit around the garden with Leia. A warm wind stirred the trees, bringing with it the scent of late summer flowers.

“You seem different today,” Leia was saying.

Ben glanced down at her. “Different?”

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Am I?” Ben asked with a grin, which made Leia snort. She was right—he was in an uncommonly good mood. Every time he looked at Armitage, he felt excited all over again. But he couldn’t explain why. They’d decided to wait a little longer, just until they returned from Sarini Island, to share the news with the rest of the family.

“And your husband is dodging me,” Leia went on.

“I don’t think that’s true.” A blatant lie: Armitage had been avoiding Leia all afternoon, paranoid that she would skim some knowledge off the top of his thoughts or simply sense what was happening inside his body. Ben thought this was unlikely, but not impossible. “Why would he do that?”

“You tell me.” She studied Ben’s face, her delicate eyebrows arched. “What’s going on?”

Leia’s voice faded into the background as Ben felt something: a dull humming at the base of his skull. He turned, searching for Armitage, who he spotted across the garden, chatting with Rose and Finn. Even from a distance, he looked oddly pale, his eyes unfocused.

Just as Ben started to move toward him, Armitage swayed on his feet and collapsed.

Ben sprinted the rest of the way.

By the time he reached his mate, Armitage was already coming around. Rose and Finn were bent over him, looking concerned, and a few other people had noticed, as well.

“I’m all right,” Armitage was saying, his voice faint and unconvincing. He tried to sit up but didn’t get far, blinking hard. Rose placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving too fast. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Rose told him. “Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think so…”

Ben knelt beside him on the grass. In his peripheral vision, he saw Poppy and Teo rushing over. “Are you in pain?”

“No. I felt lightheaded all of a sudden, that’s all. Must’ve locked my knees.” Slowly, Armitage sat up the rest of the way. Ben could feel his mate’s heart pounding. “I think I’m all right.”

“But the baby—” Poppy blurted. She caught herself almost instantly, her mouth snapping shut, but it was too late.

Leia’s voice floated from behind Ben: “What baby?”

Ben opened his mouth to flagrantly lie, but before he could think of anything convincing, Armitage grimaced and said, “I’m pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” Leia asked, like she thought she’d misheard him.

“We’re having a baby,” Armitage said, looking up at Leia in a way that was almost defiant, like he was daring her to say something about it. Still, Ben could sense the anxiety rippling around him. Leia probably could, too. He moved to stand, and Ben reached down to help him.

“Hold on. You’re not kidding?” Finn asked. He exchanged a surreptitious glance with Rose, who looked equally puzzled. “But—how?”

Armitage reddened slightly along his cheekbones. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain that to you,” he said crisply, brushing his hands off on his pants. Then he looked at Ben. “We should—”

“I know.” Because the pregnancy was high-risk, Armitage needed to see a doctor. Even if the fainting spell turned out to be nothing—and Ben wanted so badly for it to be nothing—they didn’t want to take any chances. “I’ll pull the speeder around.”

 

***

 

Poppy and Teo both wanted to come to the medcenter with them, but flatly Armitage refused. They might be stuck in a waiting room for a long time, he reasoned, and the whole thing would probably be boring. It was unnecessary and impractical for the kids to accompany them.

Ben could hear what he didn’t say: He didn’t want Poppy and Teo present, in case something was really wrong. He’d prefer to process any bad news with only Ben to see him, then compose himself before telling their kids.

In the end, Ben and Armitage left the dacha alone. Someone, probably Rey, would drop Teo and Poppy off at home in a few hours.

Because the OB’s office was closed for the holiday, their only choice was the medcenter in Emita. On the way there, Armitage got a hold of Cardinal and explained that he wouldn’t be returning tonight, without revealing the circumstances.

When he got off the comm, Ben asked, for the second time, “Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?” Ben glanced at him. “No cramps? Your back doesn’t hurt?”

That was how it started last time: Armitage had been complaining of a backache all day, but he’d also felt less nauseated than usual. He was almost eleven weeks pregnant, a normal time for morning sickness to ease. For a little while, it seemed like he’d turned a corner.

But that night, Ben woke in their bed alone; there was a dark stain in the spot where Armitage slept. Ben found him in the refresher, radiating pain, wiping blood off his thighs. When their eyes met, Ben knew.

“No,” Armitage said again, tightly. He had one hand pressed to his belly, as if he could hold the baby inside of him where she was safe. “I would tell you if I were.”

At the medcenter, a nurse sent them to the labor and delivery ward, where they waited for a long time. Eventually, a droid took a blood sample from Armitage and measured his vitals. The doctor who showed up some time later was a disarmingly young-looking human called Wyle.

“I have the results from your blood work,” Wyle said, consulting his datapad. “HGC levels are normal. Blood pressure’s a little low, but you’re not cramping or spotting. Normally I’d say there’s not much to worry about, but given the circumstances...” He looked up at Armitage. “I’d like to perform an ultrasound first and go from there.”

When he put the ultrasounder to Armitage’s belly, he didn’t switch the holoemitter on right away, just studied the scan on his datapad for what felt like a long time. This was in case there was no heartbeat, Ben assumed.

Meanwhile, Armitage focused on the ceiling. His eyes were dark and shiny, and his pulse fluttered at the soft part of his throat. Ben saw his mouth move silently; it looked like “please.”

Eventually, Wyle looked up. “Everything looks good,” he said with a smile. “Measurements are right on track, and there’s a nice steady heartbeat.”

Ben’s own heart stumbled when Wyle turned on the holoemitter and he heard the familiar thumping whoosh. He and Armitage sat in silence for a minute, listening gratefully, watching the baby move.

“Would you like to know the sex?” Wyle asked.

Armitage barely glanced away from the hologram. “Isn’t it too early to tell?”

“It depends on the baby’s position—sometimes you can’t see clearly. But I have a pretty good view,” Wyle said. “This one’s not shy at all.”

Ben and Armitage exchanged a glance. The baby’s sex didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things; it didn’t necessarily indicate gender. An alpha female might turn out to be a boy, for instance, and an omega male might really be a girl. They were lucky to have the Force to help them navigate these things early.

Still, Ben didn’t think it would hurt to have a guess. He shrugged, and Armitage nodded.

Wyle rotated the hologram to show a different angle. “Female. You can see right here,” he said. The holo wavered slightly when he traced a shape with his finger. “Considering your status, probably omega.”

They stayed like that for a little while longer, in the soft blue light.

 

***

 

The doctor determined that low blood pressure had caused Armitage to faint. Apparently this was not worrisome in and of itself; some dizziness was to be expected, because hormones were causing his blood vessels to relax and widen. His iron levels were normal, so he was sent home with instructions to rest, drink plenty of water and eat something salty. Ben would make sure he did.

By the time they left the medcenter, the sun was getting low. A few early fireworks cracked and whistled in the distance; at full dark, the sky would be illuminated in brilliant color.

Ben recognized Han’s speeder parked outside their house. He braced himself before going inside.

The holoset was playing the news at a low volume, but the sitting room was empty. As Ben and Armitage were slipping out of their shoes, Han appeared at the end of the hall; Ben guessed he’d come from one of the kids’ rooms.

Han gave Ben a knowing look. “So I guess you won’t be racing for a few more years,” he said, by way of greeting.

Despite himself, Ben felt a little sheepish. “Looks that way.”

Han shook his head, looking more amused than exasperated, and clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Well. No use complaining about it now,” he said. “Who knew you were such a kath hound?”

Ben couldn’t help but cringe. “Dad—”

“You get that from me, you know,” Han said wisely. When Armitage shot him an unamused look, he coughed into his hand. “So, uh—you doing all right there, Red?”

“You can tell Leia that everything is perfectly fine,” Armitage replied. “I assume she expects you to report back.”

“Something like that,” Han admitted. “But you had to know she’d be worried. Her and everybody else—including your kids.”

Armitage sighed, looking tired. “Thank you for bringing them home,” he said.

“Sure. You might want to talk to them, though.”

“We will,” Ben said.

“Your mother, too,” Han went on.

Ben tried not to grimace. In truth, he dreaded the conversation. Leia wasn’t exactly thrilled the last time she found out Armitage had become pregnant unexpectedly, when Poppy was barely six months old: _How could you be so irresponsible? Honestly, Ben, if you can’t figure out how to use birth control, you should have a vasectomy—_

“I’ll talk to her,” Ben said at last. “Eventually. For now, just—tell her not to worry.”

“Easier said than done, kid. Consider it your birthday present,” Han said, smiling faintly, which made Ben huff a laugh. In the last few hours, he’d almost forgotten what day it was. “Take it easy, Red.”

Only when Han had left did the kids emerge from Poppy’s room. Ben wondered if they’d been listening at the door and how much they might’ve overheard.

“It turned out to be nothing,” Armitage said, when he saw their anxious expressions. There was a kind of forced lightness in his tone. “The baby’s fine.”

Teo did not look especially relieved by that news. But if he didn’t care, at least he had the grace not to say so. “And you’re okay, too?”

“Of course.” Armitage hesitated, then added, almost hopefully: “We have a copy of the ultrasound, if you want to see.”

A look of discomfort passed across Teo’s face. “I’m good,” he said.

“I want to see,” Poppy said quickly.

Armitage managed a small smile. He loaded the datachip into a small holoemitter and placed it on the coffee table. Teo didn’t join his parents and sister on the sofa, but he didn’t leave the room, either. Ben chose to take it as a good sign that he was curious.

The recording played: a shadowy, blue-tinged hologram of the baby, who shifted and squirmed. At one point, she appeared to suck her tiny thumb; the tech said that reflex was a sign that she was developing well.

Poppy’s eyes widened as the recording looped. “Oh,” she said. “It’s a baby.”

“Were you expecting a tooka?” Ben asked.

“No, Dad,” she drawled, rolling her eyes lightly. “It’s just—” She glanced between the hologram and Armitage’s midsection. “There’s a baby in there. Like, an actual baby.” She turned back to the holo. “I hope it’s a girl.”

“Don’t get your heart set on anything,” Armitage told her. “What matters is that it’s healthy.”

“Pretty sure it’s a girl, though,” Teo muttered. When all three of them turned to him, he blinked and looked at Ben. “What? You can’t feel it?”

“Not yet,” Ben said. “What makes you say that?”

Teo raised his shoulders, defensive. “I’m not making it up. I know what Dad feels like, and it’s different now. Like...” He gestured vaguely with one hand. “Like there’s somebody else. Not separate, but not the same, either. It just seems like a girl.”

It didn’t surprise Ben that Teo had sensed the baby’s presence already. Armitage was fifteen weeks along, and Ben had become aware of Teo and Poppy around that time. He was, however, surprised that Teo had admitted to feeling anything at all.

“The technician thought it was female,” Armitage admitted. “But of course, we’ll have to wait and see.”

Apparently Han had packed up the remaining sweetcakes and put them in the fridge. The four of them sat on the sofa together, eating the little cakes and watching _Easy Spacer,_ one of Ben’s favorite old holofilms. Poppy didn’t get some of the jokes, but at least it made Teo laugh.

Sliding his arm around his mate’s shoulders, Ben reached out with the Force. Now that he was really trying, he thought he could feel it, too: There was a second heart beating inside Armitage. And there was another presence, enveloped by him but distinct.

Their daughter. He was sure of who she was now, of who she would be, just as he’d been sure about their other children.

A slow smile spread over Ben’s face, impossible to hold back. He noticed Armitage glancing at him, probably wondering why he was grinning like a fool. Ben just leaned over to kiss the corner of his jaw, below his ear.

Some birthday this had turned out to be.

 

***

 

They left for Sarini Island two days later, and not a moment too soon.

As Ben was checking the weather report before they set off, Rey forwarded him an article from a popular holozine. His stomach dropped when he read the headline: _WHOA, BABY! PRINCE BEN’S HUSBAND EXPECTING AT 49._

The article cited an anonymous source “close to the Organas,” which made Ben frown. He didn’t want to believe that any of their friends would tip off the media, but the information came from somewhere, and there were always holozines willing to pay for details of their private lives.

Public interest in their family waxed and waned, but it never faded completely. After a lifetime in the public eye, Ben was used to it, even if it was often exhausting. Early in their marriage, Armitage was unprepared for the attention that Ben’s celebrity would generate, never imagining that it would encompass him, too.

Their wedding was the talk of several systems; three billion beings watched the ceremony live on the HoloNet. It was like something out of a holodrama: the prince of a lost world marrying a disgraced Imperial’s bastard. Some called it a fairy-tale romance; others called Armitage a gold digger.

But the wedding wasn’t enough to satisfy public curiosity. Weeks later, intimate holos of the two of them honeymooning on Cantonica appeared in the sludgenews: Ben and Armitage on a hotel balcony that faced a private beach, in a state of undress. The images were taken from a great distance, using a specialized holorecorder. Armitage was mortified; Ben was furious.

After that ordeal, they assumed that they’d endured their most stressful invasion of privacy. Nothing could be harder than that. Then Armitage became pregnant with Teo.

They never publicly confirmed Armitage’s pregnancy, because his health was so precarious. But eventually, someone managed to snap a few holos of Ben and a visibly pregnant Armitage leaving the medcenter, after the third time he was admitted for dehydration. Before long, the images were all over the HoloNet. Armitage despised those pictures; he somehow looked puffy, swollen and emaciated all at the same time.

Armitage’s conspicuous absence from events he usually attended, combined with his physical appearance, fueled speculation that he was gravely ill or there was something wrong with the baby. That made him more anxious and depressed than he already was.

Ever since the wedding, Ben’s people had hoped for an heir. It had been the same for Leia, Ben knew: Alderaan was lost, but House Organa remained, and many longed for some assurance that it would continue.

When they announced Teo’s birth, there were celebrations in Alderaanian enclaves across the galaxy. Congratulatory messages and gifts poured in, many addressed to _His Royal Highness Prince Teo of Aldera._ He was their little prince, the future of House Organa. Poppy was similarly celebrated, when she came along three years later.

Things gradually settled down, as Ben stayed home to raise their children and Armitage established First Order Catering. Meanwhile, Rey had become the face of the restored Jedi Order, traveling the galaxy with Luke and later marrying Rose. As her life became more interesting, Ben and Armitage’s domestic affairs appeared less so. She took some of the pressure off.

They made a handful of public appearances throughout the year, some on Chandrila and others offworld: fundraisers, galas, the occasional sporting event, Alderaanian holidays that were still observed in some corners of the galaxy (the most important of which commemorated the founding of the House of Organa). Each year, they took at least one formal portrait as a family; the kids founds these increasingly embarrassing as they got older. But for the most part, they had been able to live peacefully on Chandrila.

Things had been quiet at home for the last few days—largely, Ben suspected, because there had been little talk of the baby. Further discussions would be necessary, of course, but for now, Ben and Armitage were trying to give the kids a little time and space to adjust to the idea of a new addition. They didn’t want to make everything about the baby just yet.

Ben knew that would change, once the rest of the galaxy found out they were expecting another child.

Armitage was already stressed about the pregnancy, doubly so now that their family and friends knew. Now there was the crushing pressure of the galaxy’s interest. Their annual trip to Sarini Island was meant to be restful, but Ben doubted Armitage would be able to enjoy it at all if he saw this article.

Maybe he didn’t have to see it. At least, not yet.

“Can I see your datapad?” Ben asked, when he found Armitage in their bedroom, checking their luggage one last time.

“It’s on the nightstand,” Armitage replied vaguely. He was busy refolding one of Ben’s shirts.

Ben picked up the datapad, which was so thin it was practically weightless. He unlocked it by swiping the correct sequence of numbers, then changed the password. “Thanks,” he said, putting the device back and went into the kitchen.

Barely five minutes later, he heard Armitage squawk. “Ben!” he called as he marched into the kitchen, datapad in one hand. He looked affronted. “Is this supposed to be funny?”

“We’re going on vacation,” Ben said firmly. “I don’t want to feel like Dopheld is physically present with us because he’s updating you hourly.”

Armitage frowned. “If there’s an emergency—”

“Cardinal will comm you directly, so you don’t even have to look at your email.” Ben gave Armitage an imploring look. “Come on. This is the last trip we’ll ever take that’s just the four of us. You don’t want to miss any of it, do you?”

For a moment, Armitage continued to glare at him. Then he sighed through his nose. “Oh, all right,” he said, setting the datapad aside. “You’ve made your point. No distractions.”

 

***

 

Sarini Island was a special place. The first time they visited, Teo was about ten months old and Armitage was preparing to return to work after a lengthy postpartum recovery. They’d spent two blissful weeks in a cozy beach house. Armitage was so charmed by the sleepy little island that Ben wanted to give him a piece of it, a place he could return to whenever he liked. As a gift for their fourth anniversary, Ben bought the house they’d rented the previous summer. They’d visited at least once every year since.

(When they decided to try for another baby, they spent Armitage’s heat week at the beach house. It was the off season then, stormy, the beaches cold and deserted. But the house was safe and warm, like a private world that contained just the two of them. Poppy was born in the spring.)

The trip was comfortably familiar after all these years: two hours from Emita by speeder, then a ferry to the island.

As the weather report predicted, the sea was gray and choppy when they boarded the ferry, the sky overcast. Ben and Armitage had retreated inside, to the climate-controlled passenger area, but Poppy and Teo were out on the deck. Ben could see them through the nearest viewport: leaning over the rail, exclaiming over the distant spray from a skor-fin’s blowhole. They both wore the raincoats that Armitage had insisted they bring.

It would be too cold for swimming today, Ben supposed, but they might venture into town instead to explore the shops and have a late lunch. Poppy would probably ask to visit the zoo. When she was little, she always wanted to ride on Ben’s shoulders, so she could get a better view of the animals in their enclosures. Teo and Armitage, meanwhile, studiously read all the signage.

“What are you smiling about?” Armitage asked, sliding into the seat beside him and offering him a can of milk caf. He had gone in search of a vending machine and scoffed when Ben offered to go for him.

Ben remembered how miserable and frustrated Armitage had been during the other pregnancies, when he needed help with almost everything; this time around, he seemed to relish being able to do normal tasks.

“I was just thinking much fun it’ll be to do this with a little kid again,” Ben said. He cracked the tab on the can and felt it warm up in his hand. All day, he’d envisioned future adventures: building sandcastles in front of the beach house, teaching the little one to swim in the ocean, watching the uralangs in the zoo. “I can’t wait. We get to do everything, one more time.”

“Yes, everything,” Armitage repeated, in a flat voice. He uncapped a bottle of cloudberry juice. “Midnight feedings. Diaper changes.”

“First words.”

“Toilet training.”

“Baby clothes.”

“I do like that part,” Armitage admitted, which was a gross understatement. He had always delighted in dressing their babies in tiny outfits. “The darling little socks…”

Ben leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I can’t wait.”

Armitage moved to take a sip of cloudberry juice, then stopped short, almost spilling the pale blue drink down his front. He grabbed Ben’s sleeve with his free hand, looking startled. “Ben—”

“What’s wrong?” Ben reached out with the Force, mind racing. It could be a sudden bleed or abruption, or any number of horrible complications—

“I felt something,” Armitage said, in a hushed voice. “Just now.”

For a second, Ben stared at him, uncomprehending. “You mean the baby? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Armitage replied. “I remember what it feels like. Faint and sort of fluttering.” He touched a hand to his belly, which was mostly disguised under his bulky sweater. He was beaming. “But I felt it.”

Ben hadn’t seen him smile like this since the twelve-week scan, when he saw the baby’s heart being steady and strong. That was probably the last time Armitage had allowed himself a moment of unrestrained happiness about this pregnancy, at least until now.

“I never thought I’d feel this again,” Armitage said, looking down at himself, practically glowing. His voice was full of wonder, and Ben thought it must be wonderful indeed to feel a new life stirring inside him.

Watching him, Ben couldn’t help but smile, too. Sarini Island really was a special place.

 

***

 

Armitage spent much of his time in a lounge chair on the deck, reading trashy holonovels and looking perfectly content. Ben was happy to leave him to it and occasionally bring him a drink: When Armitage stayed still, he could feel the baby more easily, little flutters and swishes that Ben was desperate to feel, too. A few more weeks, maybe, and then they could share it.

By the time they got home, the day before school started, Armitage seemed like he had finally allowed himself to feel happy about the pregnancy.

Ben should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

He was in their bedroom, starting to unpack, when his heart did a slow, painful somersault. There was a sudden dull throbbing at his temples, like the beginning of a headache. The feeling came out of nowhere, and he knew at once that it wasn’t his. Their mate bond was heightened by the Force; sometimes Armitage’s emotions rippled through to Ben.

As Ben turned to the door, Armitage walked into the bedroom, looking grim. “Someone took holos of us at the medcenter,” he announced, without preamble.

“How do you know?” Ben’s mouth had gone abruptly dry. “Who told you?”

“My father,” Armitage said tonelessly, and showed Ben his datapad, which Ben had agreed to unlock when they got home.

Since he fled Arkanis as a child, Armitage had minimal contact with his father. Even if Brendol were able to go offworld, he would not have been invited to their wedding on Chandrila.

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, however, Brendol was approached by multiple holozines. They asked about his relationship with his son, if he’d spoken to any of the Organas or Skywalkers, if he would have any role in the ceremony. Ben remembered his interview with _Beings Holozine_ in particular: _He’d be nothing without me. I made him what he is today. Everything that Armitage is, I made him._

For reasons Ben did not pretend to understand, Armitage remained in limited contact with his father after that. By the time Teo was born, he and Brendol communicated only two or three times a year, exchanging messages just frequently enough to remind each other that they were still alive.

These days, Brendol was in declining health, living out his last days in a care home for the elderly. For someone who was supposed to be dying, Ben thought bitterly, he was rather spirited. If only he would hurry up.

Bracing himself, Ben accepted the datapad and looked at the email. Brendol had included links to recent sludgenews articles, one of which included a few blurry holos of Armitage and Ben leaving the labor ward at the medcenter the day of the party. It was, strangely, a relief: At least Ben knew that the “anonymous source close to the Organas” was bantha shit. Someone had recognized them at the medcenter and tipped off a reporter, nothing more sinister than that.

The email itself was full of insinuations about Armitage getting pregnant at his age, “like a common breeding bitch.” Brendol also demanded to know if Armitage was planning to “spitefully withhold” yet another grandchild from him: _I’ve no doubt that it makes you feel very superior. But I won’t beg to see my own flesh and blood._

That made Ben grimace. Brendol occasionally made some noise about meeting Teo and Poppy, making it sound like something he was owed. He’d complained about it to multiple holozines. But no matter how he pressed, a meeting had never happened, and probably never would, unless the kids decided to seek out a relationship with him on their own, as adults.

“I don’t know why you even bothered to read it,” Ben said at last, setting the datapad aside. “You should have his messages routed directly into the trash. Better yet, block his address.”

“Don’t start,” Armitage warned. “I’m not having this conversation again.”

“It’s not a conversation if you refuse to listen.”

Armitage sighed through his nose. “Ben—”

“You don’t owe him anything.”

Armitage’s shoulders stiffened. “I know that.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Ben asked. They had this fight three or four times a year and never got anywhere. It was maddening. “Any reasonable person would leave him to rot, but you’re paying his bills.”

“Using my own credits,” Armitage said immediately. His neck was reddening, the way it did when he was angry or embarrassed. “I’ve never touched our joint account. It has nothing to do with you—”

“I’m your husband!” Ben struggled to control his volume. He felt the old frustration begin to stir, a burning at the base of his skull like the sting of a flame wasp. “Don’t say it doesn’t affect me. You go into a spiral every time you hear from him, and I’m the one who has to deal with it—”

“Deal with it?” Armitage’s voice shot up an octave. “Is that what you call berating me like a child?”

“The hold he has on you is sick,” Ben insisted. “Halfway across the galaxy, and he’s still controlling you. After everything he did to you, to your mother—”

“Don’t talk about my mother,” Armitage said savagely. “You have no right. You have no idea—”

“Dad?”

They both froze. Poppy was standing in the doorway, looking sheepish.

Armitage coughed. “Yes, darling?”

“You wanted to know when the potato rice was done boiling.”

“Right. Of course.” He hesitated, then told her, “Go ahead and drain it. I’ll be right there.”

Poppy glanced between her parents, obviously uncertain. She rarely heard them argue like this. But finally, she nodded and disappeared down the hall. Schooling his features into a neutral expression, Armitage turned to follow her.

“Hold on—” Ben caught his wrist. “We need to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? You know my feelings on the subject, Ben, and you’ve made yours clear,” Armitage said darkly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—I was cooking dinner, until I realized our personal business is being smeared all over the HoloNet.”

With that, he twisted out of Ben’s grasp and left.

Still simmering in anger, Ben had half a mind to go after him. But it would only lead to another argument, in which neither of them would budge. When it came to Brendol, Armitage was irrational and Ben was frequently irate.

It made no sense to Ben that Armitage would give his father so much power over him. Rey had told him once that it never would: _People who have good parents can’t really understand what it’s like to have bad ones,_ she’d said sagely. _You can’t imagine it, but he can’t get out from under it._

Ben supposed she knew what she was talking about, given her own experiences. He tried to accept his mate’s choices, even if he didn’t understand them. But it was hard, especially when he could see that Armitage was hurting himself.

With great reluctance, Ben went back to unpacking.

 

***

 

Growing up, Ben spent only part of the year on Chandrila, in the house outside Hanna City. The New Republic’s capital rotated each year, so while the senate was in session, he accompanied Leia to whatever world had been chosen: Ganthel, Kuat, Lonera, Bothawui. He saw the galaxy that way, or at least some of it, through the windows of Leia’s senatorial apartments.

When Ben was a kid, his parents were rarely planetside at the same time, at least not for long. If Leia was at home, Han was probably away, and vice versa. But after Rey’s adoption, the two of them arranged to spend as much time on Chandrila as possible, making sacrifices elsewhere, to give her the attention and stability she needed.

At the time, it stung to see how hard they were trying for Rey. As much as he liked his new little sister, Ben sometimes felt an ugly jealousy when he watched her with their parents. It got worse after she began training with Luke—at home on Chandrila, not on the other side of the galaxy.

It occurred to him eventually that his parents weren’t intentionally slighting him, nor did they favor Rey. Rather, they’d learned from the mistakes they made with Ben and were determined not to make the same ones. In the end, he decided he was glad for that, if it meant Rey didn’t have to feel as lonely as he had during his childhood.

Ben thought of that as he parked the speeder in front of his parents’ house, early on Primeday afternoon. The kids had started classes today, and Armitage had returned to work, which left Ben free to accept Leia’s invitation for lunch. She would’ve known that, of course. When his comm lit up with her message, something prickled along his spine: a vague sense of foreboding.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Threepio answered the door. “Master Ben! Welcome,” he said, shuffling aside so Ben could enter. “A pleasure to see you, as always.”

“Is my dad around?” Ben asked, somewhat warily.

“He is out at the moment, I’m afraid.”

So there would be no buffer between Ben and Leia. They were definitely having _that_ talk today. Perfect.

He found Leia in the solarium. She didn’t maintain an office in the family home, so this was where she always did her work. The clari-crystalline walls offered a view of the carefully-tended garden behind the house, which bloomed with orange damsel flowers and lilac-colored star-mist. Ben remembered playing in the garden as a child, looking into the solarium from the outside and catching his mother’s eye; she would look up from her datapad and smile and give him a little wave.

Two cups of steaming Chandrilan tea were set out on the carved wooden table in front of Leia. He dropped into the seat across from her.

“It would’ve been nice to hear the news from you,” Leia said, by way of greeting. “Or to hear _something_ from you before you fled the mainland for a week.”

“I think we’re entitled to a little privacy, under the circumstances,” Ben replied.

Her mouth thinned. “Ever since that rumor hit the HoloNet, my office has been fielding requests for comment. I have no idea what you expect me to say.”

“What’s wrong with the old standby?” In the past, when pressed to confirm or deny that Armitage was pregnant, they never offered more than a brief, bland statement asking the public to respect their family’s privacy.

Leia gave him a flat look. “What possessed you to do something like this?”

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” he admitted.

“Where have I heard that before?” She shook her head. “You’re a little old to be having these types of accidents.”

“You’re one to talk,” Ben pointed out, frowning. “Like it never happened to you.”

Though Han was an omega, a childhood illness left him unable to conceive. Combined with Leia’s alpha status, it was unlikely that any children would be born of their union, at least not without medical intervention. Apparently this made them careless; Ben was a surprise.

Leia’s mouth thinned. “You’ll be in your sixties by the time it’s Teo’s age,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Have you thought of that? Can you even keep up with a small child?”

“That’s for us to worry about,” Ben told her, feeling his jaw tighten.

Admittedly, he had wondered more than once if it he was still up to the task. It was hard to imagine chasing after a toddler while in his late forties, much less dropping them off for the first day of school when he was fifty years old. Beyond that, the future was even foggier. There was no telling how long he and Armitage might be around.

But that was true for all parents. Nobody was guaranteed tomorrow. Ben and Armitage were planning to update their wills and make arrangements for all three of their children. It was as much as anyone could do.

“And what about your husband?” Leia sounded exasperated, like she thought Ben wasn’t really hearing her. “You have no idea how hard pregnancy is on the body—”

“Armitage does,” Ben said, bristling. “He knows what he can handle, better than either of us. And he’s doing just fine—”

Leia huffed. “He’s almost fifty years old! And he’s just not built for whelping. I know how hard this decision is, Ben. I do. But he’s gambling with his life, and you’re encouraging him.”

From the beginning, Leia and Armitage never really saw eye to eye. Ben theorized that they clashed because they were simultaneously too alike and too bullheaded to admit it. They came to a truce, however, after Armitage got pregnant with Teo, and they both seemed to realize they’d need to get along for the baby’s sake.

Surprisingly, when Armitage’s debilitating nausea did not improve, Leia softened toward him. She even insisted that her own doctor examine him. Armitage thought she was concerned only because she saw him as a vessel for her grandchild. But Ben knew it was more complex than that.

There was a reason why Ben had no biological siblings: Leia had a complicated pregnancy and no desire to repeat the experience. Because of this, she sympathized with Armitage’s many pains and and looked critically on Ben. She seemed to think him selfish for breeding his mate more than once—never mind the fact that having Poppy was Armitage’s idea.

“I thought what happened last time would’ve made you more careful,” Leia went on, shaking her head.

“Last time?” Ben stared at her. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast; he could feel it in his throat. “You mean when we lost the baby, and you told Armitage it was probably for the best?”

She grimaced. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel—”

“We’re not having this conversation,” he said. “Not again.”

It was a little surreal to stand here in his childhood home, his mother scolding him because of an unplanned pregnancy. Ben wasn’t sure if he’d ever really expected a different response; he knew her too well for that. But part of him had still hoped.

Leia always came around in the end, of course: She accepted Armitage, and she doted on her grandchildren. But in the moment, her flat disapproval was devastating. Infuriating, even.

Ben was starting to see that you never really stopped craving parental approval, no matter how old you got. Leia could probably gut him with a few words, if she wanted. All at once, he thought he understood Armitage a little better.

“You can’t treat the baby like a mistake and then expect to see it after it’s born,” Ben told her, in a low voice. “I hope you realize that.”

“Ben—”

“I’m serious.”

Leia sighed through her nose, looking weary. “I don’t think it’s a mistake,” she said at last. “I just think it’s going to be very hard on you both.”

“It would’ve been hard no matter what we decided,” Ben pointed out. Part of him would always wonder how their lives might’ve been different if they’d taken another path. That was the nature of choosing.

“I know,” Leia said, and there was a strange sadness in his voice. “There’s no perfect option. You just make whatever choice you think you can live with, and then you make the best of it.”

“That’s what we’re doing,” Ben said quietly, looking out at the garden. “We’re happy, you know. I don’t expect you to get it. But after the one we lost, we never thought we’d have another chance. And now it’s happening, when it shouldn’t be possible. It just feels like…”

“Like what?”

“A miracle,” he said, feeling a little ridiculous, but meaning it all the same.

For a moment, Leia studied him. Then she asked, “When can I expect to meet my new grandchild?”

That was about as close as Leia Organa ever came to apologizing. Ben decided to take it as the peace offering that it was. “Around Life Day,” he said.

At least, that was what they hoped. It was very likely that Armitage would deliver early again, but their goal was to keep the baby inside him for at least thirty-six weeks. Teo was born around that time. Though he was late preterm and needed some respiratory support immediately after birth, they were able to hold him within hours and take him home a few days later. For now, Ben was grateful for every day that the baby stayed put.

“Well—” Leia smiled, weary but gentle. “Congratulations.”

 

***

 

That evening, Armitage came home early, so he and Ben could prepare dinner together. He always did this on the first day of school, because so Teo and Poppy could tell him about their day while the four of them shared a meal.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ben said delicately, as Armitage was chopping onions at the kitchen counter. “About that email from Brendol.”

Armitage pressed his mouth into a thin line. The knife kept thumping steadily against the cutting board. “I know what you’re going to say. You don’t have to tell me again.”

“It’s not what you think.” Ben touched his husband’s wrist, just gently, and the knife went still. “I know that something in you needs this thing you have with him, even if I don’t understand why. I’m not asking you to cut him out of your life completely. But you don’t have to engage with him all the time, or respond whenever he wants you to—”

“Ben—”

“Remember the time we went fishing, when Teo was really little, and you got that barbed hook stuck in your hand?” Ben asked suddenly. It happened during a long-ago summer on the coast of the Silver Sea. “There was no way to get it out without hurting you. But it was better than just leaving it in. Do you know what I mean?”

“I didn’t want to go fishing in the first place,” Armitage muttered. “I remember that much.”

Ben smiled weakly. “You were mad at me for making you go, but you let me help you get the hook out,” he recalled. He’d had to cut Armitage’s skin to do it, using the knife they’d planned to use only gutting fish. Teo was only two and started wailing at the sight of blood. “All that, and we didn’t even catch anything.”

Armitage didn’t smile back. “I already replied to him,” he said in a low voice. He wasn’t quite looking at Ben. “This morning.”

That gave Ben pause. “And?”

“I told him that if he wants to see the children, we take a family portrait every year. I can send him a copy, or he can look it up on the HoloNet like everybody else.”

“You told him that?”

Armitage nodded grimly. “And then I changed my settings so his messages filter automatically into a different folder. Not the trash,” he added, noticing Ben’s hopeful look. “But I won’t see them right away. I’ll only see them when I choose.”

“That’s…” Ben studied Armitage’s face. He knew it must’ve taken a lot to send even that much to Brendol, knowing some version of his words would probably appear in a holozine someday. “I’m proud of you.”

“Oh, hush,” Armitage said, without any heat. He was quiet for a moment. “You know, whenever we argue about him, I just wish you could’ve met my mother. You would’ve loved her. And she would’ve loved our children. She was—” His voice tightened. He let out a breath. “You know I don’t always see eye to eye with your family. But they’re good people, and I’m grateful for that.”

“They’re your family, too,” Ben said softly. “And not just because of the kids.”

“I know,” Armitage said, and this time, he managed a small smile. Then he went back to chopping the onions.

 

***

 

With the busy season over and the kids back in school, their family settled back into their normal routine, punctuated by Armitage’s many prenatal visits. Even as he focused on taking care of himself and the baby, Ben considered it his job to tend to them both.

They were both doing well: Two weeks ago, the anatomy scan showed that the baby was developing normally, and recent genetic tests came back normal, as well. Armitage and Ben were both relieved at the news.

Poppy had been asking to come to an ultrasound appointment with them. Now that they knew the baby was all right and there would be no terrible surprise in the middle of a scan, Armitage agreed to bring her to the next one. He seemed touched by her interest, especially because Teo was still doing everything in his power to ignore the situation, which was growing increasingly obvious.

At twenty-three weeks pregnant, there was no more hiding Armitage’s belly. Employees, clients and strangers on the street knew at a glance that he was expecting a baby. They could probably smell it on him by now. Ben certainly could: the sweet yet heavy scent of a pregnant omega, like strange fruit.

Armitage was faintly embarrassed by any attention he received; some part of him still felt there was something indecent about his condition.

Ben, meanwhile, was pleased that anyone who so much as glanced at Armitage knew he’d been mated and bred. And when people saw them together, it was obvious that he carried Ben’s baby.

His comm lit up one morning with a message from Armitage: _I’m coming home for lunch. Be ready when I get there._

Ben was watching a bad daytime holodrama when Armitage walked through the front door.

Already round as a ripe lipana berry, Armitage still had months of growing left to do; he’d transitioned into pregnancy clothes that were forgiving of his changing shape but still suitable for work. His hair was thicker, shinier and softer than it was before he became pregnant. He’d even let a beard grow in, which he kept neatly groomed. His skin had more color, and he was putting on weight.

Armitage looked healthy. Radiant. An ideal omega. Pregnancy suited him, Ben thought, when it wasn’t making him ill.

“So what did you want to eat?” Ben asked, rising to greet Armitage.

In response, Armitage kissed him with his mouth open: hungry, hard enough to bruise. Ben was surprised, but not unpleasantly so; he returned the kiss with enthusiasm, gripping his mate’s hips as Armitage pressed against him.

At last, breathless, Ben broke the kiss. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You said you were coming home for lunch.”

“And I told you to be ready!” Armitage seemed frustrated that Ben wasn’t groping him anymore. “I thought you understood euphemism.”

Ben blinked, half sure he’d misheard. “Wait, again? We just did it this morning—”

“I know! I’m sorry. It’s a nightmare.” Armitage was peppering kisses along Ben’s jaw. The smell of his skin was dizzying. “Ben, please. I’ve been thinking about you all day—”

With the second trimester came new aches and pains, but also an increased vitality. To their mutual surprise, Armitage’s libido had skyrocketed in recent weeks. He often needed it in the morning before he went to work and at least once at night. Sometimes he practically begged to be mounted.

Ben had never seen his mate like this. It wasn’t as intense as a heat, but there was an urgency so sharp it was almost painful. If Ben weren’t here to give him relief, Armitage would probably settle for the nearest hard, cylindrical object.

It was a good thing Ben was here.

Somehow, kissing and pawing at each other, they made it to the bedroom. As they stripped off their clothes, Ben could appreciate how Armitage’s body had changed in recent months. His belly was round, the loose skin pulled taut, distorting the old white stretch marks. He was getting softer in other places, too, putting on weight in his hips and thighs and ass. His breasts looked fuller, almost swollen, his nipples a darker pink.

He looked perfect.

Ben had envisioned flipping his mate onto his back and plowing him into the mattress, but when he moved to do so, Armitage gestured for him to wait.

“Hold on—I wanted—” With a soft “oof,” unbalanced by his new, lower center of gravity, Armitage sank to his knees in front of Ben, mouth kiss-reddened and eyes dark.

Ben’s cock was already hard, drooling precome at the promise of getting to make love to his pregnant mate on a weekday afternoon. Armitage tongued at the slit, not teasing so much as tasting, before taking the tip into his mouth with a low, grateful noise.

Groaning deep in his throat, Ben slid a hand through Armitage’s hair, which looked red-gold in the light pouring through the window. From above, Ben could enjoy the gentle curves of his breasts and swollen belly as Armitage swallowed him down.

Pregnant, kneeling in a wash of sunlight with a cock in his mouth, he looked like an erotic painting. The wet heat of his mouth was overwhelming. Ben had to bite the inside of his cheek to take the edge off; he couldn’t come before he’d satisfied his mate.

At last, Armitage sat back: mouth wet, face flushed. Ben reached down to help him up, gently.

Armitage lay back on their bed, spreading his legs to show his cunt, like he expected Ben to mount him immediately. He sighed in relief when the mattress dipped with Ben’s weight.

But Ben didn’t take him right away. He lingered over the act, stroking all the skin he could reach, sucking languid kisses all over his mate’s body, from top to bottom: his throat, his tender breasts, his belly, his inner thighs. Beneath him, Armitage panted and whined.

When at last he reached Armitage’s cunt, Ben found him slick and wanting, blood-hot. He lapped at the pink folds even as he pushed two fingers inside, savoring the little noises Armitage made, as well as the taste of him. He’d always heard rumors that humans tasted different when they were pregnant: sharper, stronger, headier. Now he knew it was true.

At last, Armitage made a frustrated noise and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“I want to be on top,” he said, red-faced, looking at Ben over the curve of his belly.

Ben didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back in the middle of their bed and watched his mate climb, heavily, onto his lap. Armitage guided Ben’s stiff, aching cock between thighs that were shining with slick. They both shuddered when he pushed the head against his opening.

“Take it easy,” Ben murmured, rubbing his mate’s hip with one hand. These days, Armitage opened easily, like the petals of a damp flower, but he still needed some preparation. “Nice and slow.”

If Armitage heard him, he gave no sign. He worked himself lower an inch at a time, eyes screwed shut. It was tight; Ben felt like he was being slowly, pleasurably devoured. When Armitage was fully seated, they were both panting.

Carefully, hands braced against Ben’s shoulders for balance, Armitage lifted himself onto his knees. Ben rolled his hips upward just as Armitage lowered himself again, leaning in for a kiss. Stars, even his mate’s mouth tasted different: sweeter.

They rocked together, rising and falling, gasping and licking into each other’s mouths. Ben squeezed Armitage’s hips, his thighs. With a moan, Armitage arched his back, seeking a better angle; his swollen belly rubbed between them, and his chest heaved.

There was a familiar pressure building in Ben’s pelvis, nearing a peak. “I’m close,” he panted.

“Don’t knot me,” Armitage said, bouncing with greater urgency. “Ben, I swear—”

Ben clenched his jaw, grimacing, trying not to come. Armitage had to return to work; they couldn’t spend all afternoon tied together in bed, as much as Ben knew they would both enjoy it.

When Armitage came, he buried his face against Ben’s shoulder to muffle his moans. His whole body trembled. He managed to roll off Ben, ponderously, before the rhythmic pulsing of his cunt sent Ben over the edge.

Ben moved to his knees as Armitage sprawled bonelessly onto his back, pumping his cock with one hand. A few strokes and he was coming in thick wet pulses, all over his mate’s belly. Then he collapsed beside Armitage.

They lay together for a little while, catching their breath, brushing their hands over each other’s skin.

When Armitage moved to get up, Ben wrapped an arm around his waist and drew him back down, kissing his throat and shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured, against his mate’s skin.

“I need to clean up,” Armitage said with a sigh. “So I can get back to work.”

“You could stay here with me.” Ben lowered his head to kiss his mate’s soft breasts. They were like perfect fruit. He took a nipple into his mouth, and Armitage gasped, arching his back a little.

“Ben!” For a minute more, Armitage let Ben play with his breasts, kneading them, nibbling at the soft white skin. Then he pushed a hand through Ben’s hair. “I mean it, Ben. Let me up.”

Humming, Ben pressed a last gentle kiss to each of Armitage’s tits. Then he rolled over and watched Armitage climb out of their bed.

“So,” Ben said, as Armitage gathered his clothes. “What do you actually want for lunch?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I wasn’t really planning to eat here,” Armitage admitted. “I’ll grab something on the way back to the kitchen.”

Ben sat up. “No, no, I’ll make you something,” he said quickly. “Come on. Tell me what you want.”

Armitage actually had an appetite during this pregnancy, which was a marvel to both of them. Ben was always encouraging him to eat and got more than a little satisfaction from watching him grow bigger. A plump omega was a healthy omega, with fat reserves for breastfeeding.

“Well,” Armitage said primly. “If you insist... I wouldn’t say no to a fried dewback egg sandwich.”

Ben tried not to grin too openly. Armitage’s fast response suggested that he already had something in mind. “I can make that happen.”

“On seedbread, if we have any. With groat cheese. And bacon,” Armitage added.

“Sure.”

“Maybe some apple slug sauce, as well.”

Ben paused. “You want that _on_ the sandwich?”

“Is that a problem?” Armitage asked, a little defensive.

“Nope. No problem at all.” It wasn’t like Ben had to eat it.

Pregnancy cravings were new to them, strange and fascinating. Armitage never had them before, only powerful aversions to almost all food. But this time around, he was hungry for things he normally hated, like bristlemelon and salamander sticks, sometimes in unusual combinations.

Whatever Armitage wanted, Ben was happy to indulge him, even if it meant going out in the middle of the night in search of dao-ben steamed buns. (That happened last week.) He was just happy to see his mate eating.

While Armitage was busy in the refresher—washing the smell of sex off his skin and fixing his clothes so he looked presentable—Ben busied himself in the kitchen. He had prepared two sandwiches by the time Armitage joined him. They sat down to eat together.

Armitage moaned, low in his throat, when he bit into his sandwich, like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Ben was so entranced by the sight of him that he almost forgot to eat.

“I can’t make this a habit. Running off in the middle of the day to see you, I mean,” Armitage said after a while, licking a smear of apple slug sauce off his thumb in a way that was disconcerting erotic. “Nobody takes me seriously at work anymore as it is.”

“That can’t be true,” Ben said.

“It is! Now that I’m showing, the whole staff acts as if I’m made of glass. They’re all terrified of bumping into me in the kitchen. Dopheld’s always asking if I need to sit down.”

“They’re just trying to help.”

“They’re intolerably annoying,” Armitage replied. “And it’ll only get worse, the bigger I get.” He paused, noticing that Ben was admiring him from across the table. “What?”

“You’re glowing,” Ben said.

Armitage rolled his eyes a little. “Stop it.”

“Why? I mean it. You look good like this.”

For a moment, Armitage hesitated. “I feel good, actually,” he admitted. “Other than the back pain and the swelling, of course. But even that—” He rubbed a hand over his rounded belly, smiling a little. “This feels right to me—being pregnant again. Strange, but right. Can you believe it?”

“Sure I can,” Ben said, smiling.

“I always wondered what it was like for other people,” Armitage went on, softly. He was still rubbing his belly in small, concentric circles, as if to soothe the baby. “I think this is how it’s supposed to feel.”

 

***

 

The perinatologist’s office was in Hanna City, about an hour from their home. By now, close to the end of the second trimester, these twice-monthly visits had become routine. Between Armitage’s many appointments, which would soon be even more frequent, Ben was getting a lot of reading done in various waiting rooms.

The baby was growing well, and so was Armitage: He was getting rounder by the day. Better yet, he was healthy. His blood pressure was normal, he passed his glucose tolerance test, and there were no signs of premature labor. By all accounts, the pregnancy had been uneventful so far. Ben ardently hoped it stayed that way.

But even a healthy pregnancy was hard at forty-nine. As Armitage’s belly grew, so did his discomfort. The surge of energy he’d enjoyed in previous weeks was rapidly diminishing. Ben sensed his exhaustion when he came home after spending all day on his feet; at night, he struggled to get comfortable in bed.

None of his old clothes fit, which was somewhat demoralizing. His skin was stretched and itchy. He recently purchased a bra (something he had not worn since weaning Poppy), because he needed support for his tender breasts, and seemed unhappy about it.

All told, Ben could tell that Armitage was beginning to struggle, and the most challenging stretch of the journey was still ahead. He needed a pick-me-up.

Because the appointment was in the middle of the afternoon, Armitage had planned to take the rest of the day off. As long as they were in Hanna City, Ben thought they might as well make the most of it: have a late lunch, explore one of the baby boutiques in the city center.

It wasn’t exactly a weekend getaway, but it was a start. Ben hoped it would renew some of Armitage’s enthusiasm.

“I wish you hadn’t sprung this on me,” Armitage was saying, as they walked around. He had lifted a hand to his belly, holding it there in what looked like an unconscious gesture. “I had no time to research.”

“They all have to meet the same safety standards,” Ben pointed out. “So anything would be fine.”

“Anything?” Armitage’s voice was suddenly colder. “You’d let our baby sleep in anything, Ben? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Well, not anything,” Ben said quickly, in a placating tone. “But we’re just browsing today. Getting an idea of what we like.”

Armitage was still frowning a little. “Well, I don’t want anything that uses formplast,” he said.

“No formplast. Got it,” Ben said. “How do you feel about ones that convert into beds?”

Originally, Armitage had wanted to order all the baby’s things on the HoloNet. That was what they always did in the past, out of necessity, but Ben had insisted that they look around in person at least once. They’d never had the chance to go nursery shopping like this, and he wanted them to experience it.

The idea of physically going shopping was too daunting when Armitage was pregnant with Teo, so they spent a couple of afternoons in bed, browsing the HoloNet and debating the merits of different strollers, cribs, bouncers and other supplies. They decorated the nursery together over several days.

While he was on bed rest with Poppy, Armitage was bored and worried and eager for a distraction. Ordering baby things on the HoloNet, especially clothes, became something of a hobby for him. It gave him something to look forward to.

That changed after Poppy was born. Armitage and Ben visited her at the medcenter every day and often came home to discover that a package had arrived. Each one was a reminder that their baby wasn’t with them. They didn’t take anything out of the boxes or assemble any furniture until Poppy was almost ready to be discharged, for fear that they wouldn’t get to bring her home at all.

Armitage became more enthusiastic as they continued to browse, pointing out things he liked—not just cribs, but rugs and lamps and blankets. They would need a rocking chair, probably. A bassinet, certainly. At least one nursing pillow. There was so much; it was a little overwhelming.

Ben made sure to walk at a slower, more deliberate pace than usual: Though he tended to downplay any discomfort, Armitage’s back and him appeared to be hurting him. After a while, Armitage said he needed a break.

“Feeling okay?” Ben asked automatically.

Armitage waved away his concern. “I just need to use the refresher, that’s all,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

That made Ben hesitate. “You’re going alone?”

“Yes, Ben, I think I can manage,” Armitage said in a flat voice. Sometimes he seemed to revel in Ben’s attentiveness, but brushed him off at other times. Omegas were inscrutable creatures.

Ben watched him head toward the nearest refresher, the location of which he had carefully noted as soon as they entered the store. Armitage’s gait was changing subtly to accommodate the increasing weight of the baby, as well as the persistent ache in his back and hips: not quite a waddle, but getting there. It looked uncomfortable. Ben resolved to give his mate a backrub when they got home.

A crib made of Taboon hardwood caught Ben’s eye—no formplast to be found. It was elegantly made, with drawers built into the bottom, which Armitage would appreciate: both form and function. Experimentally, Ben gripped the bars and rattled the crib, testing how sturdy it was.

“Can I help you with anything?” A young Twi’lek salesclerk, pretty and pale green, appeared next to him.

“I don’t think so,” Ben said. “I’m just. You know.” He rattled the crib again, less aggressively this time. “Making sure it holds up.”

“I see.” She gave him a knowing look. “Been a while since you had to think about babies?”

Ben huffed a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“We get a lot of grandparents,” she said with a smile. “I’m guessing the baby shower is coming up. Do you know if the parents are registered here?”

“Excuse me?” It was a second before it clicked: The clerk, who looked all of twenty-two years old, assumed he was shopping for an impending grandchild. He must seem ancient to her.

Before he could could correct her, he heard his mate’s voice: “I’ve been thinking about it, Ben, and it’s not important if the crib converts into a toddler bed.”

Ben and the clerk turned to see Armitage approaching them. Her eyes widened when she noticed his belly, but she managed to smooth her features into a polite smile.

“Is this your first?” she asked Armitage. She was possibly falling back on a script to salvage the interaction.

Armitage’s mouth thinned. “We have two others,” he said, in a tone that implied this was a rudely personal question.

“They’re teenagers,” Ben added. “So this one is our first in a while.”

The clerk’s pale green cheeks turned emerald when she blushed, but her smile didn’t falter. “How exciting,” she said. “If there’s anything I can help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

She then quickly excused herself and escaped into another aisle.

When she was gone, Armitage glanced at Ben. “Did I miss something?”

“Until you showed up, she thought I was somebody’s granddad,” Ben informed him. “Do I really look that old?”

Once the surprise wore off, Ben thought the misunderstanding was actually pretty funny. Armitage, however, did not. He was even less amused when Ben relayed the incident to Rey that night, when she holocommed from Sicemon.

“It’s really not that funny,” Armitage said in a dour voice.

“Oh, come on, Armie. Lighten up,” Rey said, when she’d caught her breath. Because of her remote location, the connection wasn’t great; her hologram stuttered and flickered occasionally. “It’s much more embarrassing for that poor clerk than for you. That’s the kind of thing you remember for the rest of your life, when you can’t sleep and you’re tallying up every stupid thing you ever did.”

“You should’ve seen her face,” Ben said. “She was mortified. She didn’t know where to look.”

That set Rey off again, cackling. Ben felt a little mean for laughing while Armitage looked so grim; he knew that Armitage was particularly sensitive about age-related comments and was usually at the center of any awkward interactions.

In truth, Ben sometimes shared his discomfort. They were consistently the oldest expectant parents wherever they went, from nursery shopping to the doctor’s office. There was a frequent, hard-to-shake sense that they ought to be done with this stage of their lives and moving on to other things—and, well, that had been the plan.

But plans changed, and now Ben was determined to enjoy this. He hoped Armitage could get to that point, too.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell Rose,” Rey said at last, with a sigh. She swiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “You know, Armie, you could’ve avoided all this if you’d just let me plan a baby shower.”

“I can also avoid it by doing the rest of the shopping on the HoloNet.”

Rey pouted. “But where’s the fun in that? I’d be happy to arrange the whole thing for you—”

Armitage sighed. “For the last time, it’s tacky to have a baby shower for a third child.”

“Says who? Finn and Poe had a big party each time they were matched with another kid.”

“And it was unbearably gauche,” Armitage replied.

“Pretty sure you’re the only person who thought that,” Ben felt compelled to point out, which made Armitage frown.

“He’s right,” Rey said. “Besides, your last baby was fifteen years ago. I can’t imagine you have anything left over.”

“Well, no, but—”

“And you didn’t have a shower for the other two,” she went on. “I was all ready to plan one, but you were too busy puking. No point having a party when the guest of honor can’t even eat.”

“So sorry to have denied you that experience,” Armitage deadpanned. “But, really, it’s not necessary.”

Rey scoffed. “Who said anything about necessary? It’s an excuse to buy cute baby things and eat,” she said. The hologram flickered as she gave him a serious look. “Can you honestly say you wouldn’t find it immensely satisfying to let my mother spend an exorbitant amount of credits on a crib and stroller that you picked out?”

For a moment, Armitage and Rey just stared at each other, brows furrowed.

At last, he said, “I’ll think about it.”

 

***

 

It took another week of cajoling from Rey, and some more encouragement from Ben, before Armitage relented. At last, he agreed to let Rey plan a baby shower on the condition that she keep it small and not ask him to participate in any embarrassing activities.

“What, you don’t want to play ‘pin the sperm on the egg’ with our whole family?” Rey teased, when he outlined his terms.

“Ben and I already played that game,” Armitage replied primly, which made Rey choke.

“Yeah, and I won,” Ben added. Armitage elbowed him in the ribs, but it was worth it for Rey’s horrified expression.

They set the date for a little over a month from now, when Armitage would be about thirty-two weeks pregnant. Rey complained that it gave her barely enough time to send invitations, but Armitage didn’t want to push the date back any farther, when he would be even bigger and more uncomfortable than he already was. It also gave them sufficient time after the shower to buy anything they might still want or need before the baby arrived.

Poppy thought a baby shower sounded like great fun; she regularly peppered Rey with questions about the plans. Would there be cake? (Yes, lots.) Was the party going to have a theme? (Just a color scheme, really.) Most importantly, was Poppy invited? (Of course she was.)

Teo, meanwhile, wanted nothing to do with it, or anything else related to the pregnancy. He was, at least, abiding by Ben’s rule: Since he had nothing nice to say, he kept his opinions to himself. Most of the time, he acted almost as if he didn’t know Armitage was pregnant.

It was better than arguing or complaining. Still, Ben could tell that Armitage was more than a little hurt by Teo’s cold disinterest. Ben kept assuring him that Teo would come around, but he believed himself less and less each time. He didn’t know what to do to change things.

One morning before school, Ben heard activity in the laundry room, which was odd for such an early hour. He found Teo pulling freshly-washed clothes out of the dryer and stuffing them into his sports bag. There was a strong smell of fabric softener in the air.

“Secret laundry usually involves bed sheets,” Ben commented, standing in the door. “Or is this something else?”

“Dad!” Teo turned pink.

“Kidding. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just—” Teo shifted uncomfortably, not quite looking at Ben. “Sometimes I change when I get to school.”

That was a little odd for Teo, Ben thought. “How come?”

Teo grimaced. “Because otherwise I smell like Dad,” he admitted. “It’s gross.”

“What?” Ben asked, blinking.

Families who lived together all tended to smell vaguely similar, of course, like a primitive form of identification. But this was a little different: The unmistakable scent of a pregnant omega had permeated their home, clinging to their clothes and even their skin. Though it had become like background noise to Ben, constant and familiar, the scent would probably seem stronger to someone who didn’t live here.

Humans were also hardwired to be sensitive to that particular smell, so Teo’s human classmates would’ve noticed, especially if any of them had been exposed to it before. Some of his alien classmates would pick up on it, too, probably, though they might not place it as easily. It hadn’t occurred to Ben that this might be a problem.

“It’s not gross. It’s perfectly natural,” Ben said at last, because it seemed like something Armitage would say. “I know it might be a little awkward for you, but—”

“A little awkward?” Teo huffed. “Easy for you to say. People don’t smell it and think it’s coming from you.”

“Come on, nobody thinks that.”

Teo gave him a flat look. “The rumor is that I’m the one who’s actually pregnant, and we’re just pretending Dad is, because it would look bad on the holonews,” he said darkly. “Which almost makes more sense than what’s really happening, because he’s way too old for this.”

For a second, Ben just stared at him. “Who said that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t do anything about it.”

Ben disagreed. In his experience, the Prince of Alderaan could do quite a lot. “I’m serious. Who said that?”

“Like the whole thing isn’t humiliating enough without you getting in the middle of it.” When Teo scowled, he looked just like Armitage, but Ben didn’t have it in him to be charmed by the resemblance just now. “You know, I actually thought I was going to enjoy my senior year, before all this happened.”

It was an effort for Ben not to raise his voice. He tried to understand Teo’s frustrations, but some days were more challenging than others. “We need to talk about this,” he said.

“The only thing I need to do is get these clothes out of the house before they start to reek,” Teo said.

“Teo—”

“I’m going to be late for school.” Teo slung the bag over his shoulder and pushed past Ben on the way out of the room.

It hadn’t occurred to Ben that the pregnancy and any related rumors might affect Teo at school. Their daily life on Chandrila was relatively quiet, almost like a normal family, and Ben had been naive to expect it to stay like that under the circumstances.

The trouble was that he had no idea what to do about it. If he couldn’t fix things for Teo at home, how could he expect to fix them anywhere else? Some alpha he’d turned out to be.

Ben didn’t mention their conversation to Armitage, who didn’t need the stress of something he couldn’t change on top of everything else he was going through. He was growing rounder by the day and increasingly tired. Being on his feet all day was a struggle, but he was reluctant to scale back his schedule any more than he already had, no matter what Ben said.

As the date of the baby shower approached, Armitage didn’t seem at all excited. If anything, he seemed to be dreading it.

“Do you not want to do this?” Ben asked one night, watching Armitage waddle into their bedroom from the attached refresher. He was dressed for bed, in loose sweatpants and one of Ben’s old shirts, which was getting tight across the middle.

“The shower is in three days, Ben.” Armitage lowered himself carefully onto the edge of the mattress, one hand braced against his belly. He swung his legs up onto the bed with effort, one at a time. “And people have made travel plans. It’s not as if we can cancel.”

“Sure we can.”

Armitage sighed. “Ben—”

“I’m serious. I know it was partly my idea, but I don’t want to bully you into it.”

“You haven’t. It’s not like that. I just—” He hesitated, glancing away. “I keep waiting for something to happen.”

Ben studied him. “Like what?”

“It seemed a little presumptuous to plan a party when I wasn’t even sure I’d make it this far,” Armitage admitted. He touched a hand to his belly, somewhat protectively. “Poppy was already born by this time. Don’t you remember what a nightmare that was? It felt so… public. And that was without having a kriffing party beforehand.”

Ben remembered all too well. The period immediately following Poppy’s birth was the most difficult in their marriage. He couldn’t have imagined the stress that came with having a baby in the intensive care unit, a toddler at home, and a weakened, exhausted mate who needed a lot of help.

On top of that, Ben was bombarded with questions from his family: How was the baby? Had she improved since yesterday? Could he send another holo? It felt invasive and draining, especially because his daily updates weren’t always positive. Poppy struggled a lot in the early weeks.

Three days after she was born, someone managed to snap holos of Ben and Armitage leaving the medcenter. They both looked wrecked, Armitage’s belly was suspiciously small, as if deflated, and there was no baby with them. Soon the holos were everywhere.

It felt like their suffering was laid out for all the galaxy to see. At that time, Armitage was pumping eight times a day to maintain his milk supply, even waking in the middle of the night to do it. During those late-night pumping sessions, when the house was silent and Ben was asleep, Armitage scrolled bleary-eyed through sludgenews articles and social feeds speculating that their baby had died, hating himself for being unable to carry her longer.

Eight weeks later, Poppy was strong enough that formally announcing her birth didn’t feel like tempting fate. But the fear was always there, until the day they brought her home.

Now Armitage was hesitant to draw attention to this pregnancy, much less publicly celebrate it, for fear that they would go through the same ordeal. Ben understood why. He only wondered how he didn’t see it before.

“I don’t dislike the idea of a baby shower,” Armitage went on. “But it makes me nervous, like we’re being overconfident. I keep thinking about how awful it would be to have a pile of baby things we might never get to use.”

Ben would be lying if he said he hadn’t experienced similar worries. He’d kept them mostly to himself, not wanting to burden his mate. He realized now that was a mistake. They should’ve had this conversation weeks ago.

“I know what you mean,” Ben said softly. “And I know it’s been hard for you to get excited. But at the same time…”

In the lamplight, Armitage’s eyes looked dark and worried. “What?”

“I think it would be better if we both let ourselves be happy about this,” Ben told him. He placed his hand on his mate’s belly. Through the Force, he could sense her heartbeat. “And let other people be happy for us. Even if something happens tomorrow, at least we’ll have today.”

Sighing, Armitage folded his hand over Ben’s. “I know you’re right,” he said. “I’m being neurotic.”

Ben opened his mouth to protest when he felt two solid thumps under his palm. He couldn’t help but smile. “Was that a punch or a kick?”

“A kick. Her head is down here,” Armitage said, guiding Ben’s other hand to his lower belly and pressing gently. Ben felt something solid, which was a little strange. “And her feet are up here, where you felt her moving. She likes kicking me in the ribs while I’m trying to sleep.”

“Really?”

“Mmm. I think she gets it from you.”

“Hey. Be nice to your dad,” Ben said, dipping his head to press a kiss to his mate’s belly. Then he looked up. “I don’t think you’re being neurotic. I just wish you’d give yourself permission to relax. You’re not going to cause something to happen because you enjoyed yourself for a minute.”

“I know that. And I’m going to try,” Armitage said. “I promise.”

That was all anyone could ask for, Ben thought.

A little while later, when they settled down for sleep, Ben draped an arm around his mate, one hand resting on his belly. He could feel their baby kicking under his hand as he drifted off.

 

***

 

Armitage didn’t want to host the baby shower at their home, largely because he wanted to be free to leave, without having to politely kick guests out if they lingered beyond the planned three hours. With that in mind, Rey secured a different location: Han and Leia’s house.

Per Rey’s instructions, Ben drove them to the house about an hour before guests were due to arrive. The main room was tastefully decorated with bundles of balloons, some strategically-placed streamers, and Arkanisian lilies. The furniture had been rearranged so the room felt more spacious, with some additional seating.

“Looks nice, Rey,” Ben told her, glancing around.

She beamed. “Thanks. Threepio helped,” she said happily. Then she looked between the three of them. “Where’s Teo?”

Armitage coughed delicately. “Couldn’t make it, I’m afraid. He has a crashball match in Nayli.”

It was a lie, and Rey probably knew it, if the way her smile wilted was any indication. Teo did occasionally have weekend matches out of town, but not today.

Ben was prepared to strong-arm Teo into joining them—his refusal to acknowledge the baby was getting ridiculous—but Armitage said no good could come of forcing him to attend. Ben saw the wisdom in avoiding any conflict. But he could tell that Armitage was hurt, even if he pretended not to be.

Yesterday, Ben pulled Teo aside and strongly advised him to make an appearance: _It would mean a lot to your dad. Especially if you act like you actually want to be there._

At the time, Teo seemed to hear him. But when they left the house, he didn’t accompany them.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Rey said. She shot Ben a quick, concerned glance before taking Armitage by the elbow. “Let’s go look at the food. The little puff cakes turned out great…”

Armitage looked dubious, even as he let Rey steer him into the kitchen. He had wanted to handle the food himself, originally, but Rey forbade him from doing any cooking or formal organizing for his own baby shower.

Ben felt a presence behind him a moment before he heard a voice: “Ben.”

“Mom,” he said, turning. She wore soft gray and blue, at once casual and elegant. Her hair was pulled back in what Ben recognized as a traditional Alderaanian braid, one worn by grandmothers. It was an acknowledgement of the impending baby. “Nice of you to host.”

“Rey didn’t give me much choice,” Leia said. She didn’t sound especially put out by this, however. “This is really her party, you know.”

“We figured. I don’t think Armitage would’ve agreed to it otherwise—he only likes parties that are for other people.”

She snorted. “Han and I decided to buy the crib,” she went on.

“The one on the registry?” Ben asked slowly. He wouldn’t be shocked if Leia had intentionally purchased a different crib, on the grounds that it was somehow better than whatever Ben and Armitage had selected. She had been known to do that occasionally. Armitage would take it as a personal insult, but he would also take perverse pleasure in returning Leia’s gift and then buying what he actually wanted.

“Of course,” Leia replied, innocently, as if she had never deliberately given Armitage a painting he wouldn’t like as a housewarming gift, thus obligating him to display it. (Looking back, Ben suspected it was a test of some kind. Ultimately, Armitage put the painting in the guest refresher, which Leia soon discovered. She was impressed by his spectacular passive-aggression.) “It should be at your house by the time you get back.”

“Thank you,” Ben said. “Seriously. Armitage will love it.”

Time and again, Rey had assured them that it would be a small, quiet gathering that mostly included immediately family. But people kept arriving: all six Damerons and their astromech droid, Snap and Karé, Rose’s sister Paige and her wife Jess, C’ai Threnalli, Amilyn Holdo, Uncle Lando, Chewie’s family, and, bizarrely, Han’s wizened pirate friend Maz Kanata. Even Luke and Wedge showed up.

“Whoa, Red! You got huge,” Poe said, pulling Armitage into an embrace before anyone could think to stop him. At last, he released Armitage and looked him up and down. “You’re sure it’s not twins? I mean, you’re absolutely sure?”

“Poe,” Finn bleated. He looked suitably embarrassed by his mate’s comments.

“When are you due, again?” Poe asked blithely, as if Finn hadn’t spoken.

“Not for two more months,” Rey called from across the room. “Can you believe it?”

Armitage suppressed a grimace while Ben placed a hand on his lower back, supportively. There was no denying that Armitage was enormous, especially compared to his other pregnancies. He’d barely showed for months with Teo and Poppy, because he was losing so much weight—something like thirty pounds, in Poppy’s case.

Lately, Armitage often felt huge and unattractive. Ben, meanwhile, couldn’t get enough of him. He radiated health and abundance. Surely anyone would be proud to watch their mate growing soft and round, a baby in his belly.

When they had extricated themselves from the Damerons, Ben thought their most uncomfortable interaction of the day was already over. Then two more guests arrived: Cardinal and his wife, Vi.

For a second, when he spotted them, Armitage looked confused. Then he pulled Rey into the kitchen. Ben trailed after them, feeling obligated to keep an eye on the situation. For reasons Ben did not pretend to fully understand, Armitage preferred not to mix his personal and professional lives. Cardinal’s presence would feel awkward to him at best.

“What is Cardinal doing here?” Armitage asked in a low voice.

“I invited him, of course,” Rey said.

“Why would you do that?”

Rey blinked. “What kind of hostess would I be if I didn’t invite at least one of your friends?”

Armitage looked offended. “Cardinal is not my friend,” he whispered.

“But you’ve worked together for fifteen years or something,” Rey said, looking puzzled.

“He is my employee—”

“And you talk about him a lot, so I just assumed—”

“This is wildly inappropriate—”

“Didn’t you cater his wedding?” Ben asked. He was pleasantly drunk for most of it, but the food was good.

“That was different! It was work,” Armitage said stiffly. He turned to Rey. “How did you get a hold of him, anyway? And who gives a plus-one to a karking baby shower?”

“I just contacted First Order and asked to speak with him. It was easy. And we had such an interesting chat. Did you know we’re both from Jakku?” She looked over Armitage’s shoulder, smiling. “Hello, Cardinal.”

Almost like instinct, Armitage switched his public persona back on as he turned to Cardinal: the smooth, unobjectionable one he used when they attended galas and fundraisers. There was a hint of panic in his eyes, however. “So glad you could join us,” he said.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it,” Cardinal said. He seemed a little amused by the whole situation, Ben thought—perhaps he recognized that Rey had no business inviting him, but he’d accepted anyway, to see what happened.

“You can leave that on the table by the door, if you like,” Rey told him, indicating the wrapped package tucked under Cardinal’s arm.

“It’s from the whole staff,” Cardinal said to Armitage.

“Oh.” Armitage looked genuinely surprised. Brushing against the forefront of his mind, Ben sensed that he was conflicted: On one hand, he was touched; on the other hand, he was uncomfortable receiving any kind of gift from a subordinate. It felt like an inappropriate role reversal to him. “How thoughtful.”

After they had greeted all the guests (if one more person exclaimed over how big Armitage was, he would probably scream), Ben suggested that his mate sit down and eat something. For once, it wasn’t very hard to convince Armitage to take a break: His lower back was hurting, and his feet were already swollen.

Ben was returning from the kitchen with a plate of tiny sandwiches when he discovered that Maz had joined Armitage on the sofa.

She stood on the cushion beside him, so their faces were level. She leaned close to Armitage, adjusting her goggles and peering at him with a strange intensity. “Hmm…”

“Yes?” Armitage asked, clearly unsettled. He leaned back slightly as she leaned closer. “What does that look mean? Does it mean anything?”

Maz said nothing, just kept studying him. At last, she nodded thoughtfully. “This one is stubborn,” she told Armitage, patting his belly with one small hand. “She’ll come later than you think. Do not worry so much.”

Before Armitage could respond, she hopped off the sofa and left. Armitage stared after her, brow furrowed.

“What was that?” he whispered to Ben.

“Maz is just like that,” Ben replied, shrugging. He sat beside Armitage and handed him the plate. “She’s Force-sensitive, so maybe she knows something we don’t.”

Armitage looked skeptical. “You think she can sense something that you can’t?”

“Maybe. She’s a lot older than I am,” Ben said. He stole a sandwich off the edge of the plate and shoved it into his mouth. “More experience.”

Eventually, Rey decided it was time to open presents. She was more excited than anyone else, probably. There was an art to graciously unwrapping gifts in front of a group of people while maintaining the right level of enthusiasm, which Ben had never fully mastered. Armitage was better at it, though, and between the two of them, they managed. Most of the guests were a little drunk by now, which helped.

Armitage’s employees had given them a stroller. Other gifts ran the gamut from the practical (a diaper bag packed with supplies, including wipes and a grooming kit) to the whimsical (a comically huge snow bear plush that would probably take up a whole corner of the nursery). Lando presented them with a dozen tiny capes, all of them custom made, so the baby would have one of an appropriate size for each month of her first year, which greatly impressed Armitage.

Rather than something for the baby, Rey and Rose presented Armitage with a gift certificate for a massage administered by someone called Lexo Sooger. Apparently he used to be the star masseur at a Canto Bight spa and had experience with pregnant humans. Armitage, who was usually in some degree of pain, was even more enthusiastic about this than the capes.

Rey roped Ben and Poppy into helping her clean up after all the guests had gone. (Armitage, however, was excused from this activity and had gone to visit the ‘fresher for the third time this afternoon.) They were taking down the decorations and collecting any stray bits of wrapping paper when the door opened.

For a second, Ben thought a guest had forgotten something and doubled back to get it. Then he saw Teo standing sheepishly in the doorway.

“Did I miss the party?” Teo asked, stepping into the house.

“Just barely,” Rey said. She was holding a bundle of silver balloons by the string. “So did you win?”

Teo blinked. “Win what?”

“The crashball match.”

“Right. The crashball match,” he said slowly. It seemed to dawn on him that someone had made an excuse for his absence. “We lost. Twenty-three to nineteen. But it was just an exhibition game, so…” He cleared his throat, glancing around. “Where’s Dad?”

Just then, Armitage reappeared at the end of the hall. He hesitated, one hand on his belly. “Teo,” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought something,” Teo said quickly. He had a flat, wrapped package in his hand. “You know. For the baby.”

“Did you?” Armitage studied him, uncertain.

“Well, go on,” Rey said, with an encouraging smile. “What’re we waiting for? Let’s see.”

Armitage accepted the package and brought it over the sofa. The rest of them gathered around to watch him carefully unwrap it.

Inside the box, swathed in pale tissue paper, was a little outfit: a dark gray dress made of soft wool, long-sleeved, with a row of tiny buttons up the back. There was also a pair of blush-pink tights, folded neatly.

“Oh, Teo,” Armitage said softly, lifting the dress out of the box. “It’s darling.”

“You like it?” Teo’s tone was hopeful.

“Of course I do. She’ll wear it all the time.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled at Teo, who smiled back, looking relieved. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

While Rey and Poppy cooed over the gift, rubbing the fabric between their fingers, Ben caught Teo’s eye and nodded toward the kitchen. “Give me a hand with something?”

“Sure.” Teo followed him.

When they were alone, Ben turned to Teo, eyebrows raised. “So?”

“So what?” Teo asked. He looked like he was bracing himself for something.

“What changed your mind?”

Teo looked embarrassed. “I was with Aola today,” he said quietly, rubbing at his nose with one hand. “When I mentioned that I skipped the baby shower, she told me I was being an ass.”

“You were being an ass,” Ben agreed, not unkindly. He thought he was beginning to like Teo’s little girlfriend.

Nodding ruefully, Teo said, “I know. But I wanted to fix it. Or at least try.”

Ben reached out and squeezed Teo’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s a good start,” he said. “I told you it would mean a lot to him. And it did.”

Teo’s smile was small but full of relief. They returned to the sitting room a minute later and rejoined the family, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may have noticed that the chapter count has changed! I planned for three originally, but as I got deeper into writing this chapter and planning the third, I realized that I had enough story left for a fourth chapter.
> 
>  **next time:** Ben and Armitage prepare to welcome their baby. but new life is unpredictable, and not everything goes according to plan.
> 
> thanks for reading! feel free to visit me [on tumblr](http://gonna-pop.tumblr.com).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience while I worked on this chapter! I hope it’s worth the wait.
> 
>  **content warnings:** alpha/beta/omega dynamics; mpreg/pregnancy kink; explicit references to dfab anatomy (including words like “cunt”); piv sex; breast play/lactation kink; breastfeeding (nonsexual); frank depictions of labor and birth (including a vaginal birth scene); references to weight gain
> 
> I understand that this may not work for all readers. I want to minimize the chances of someone being inadvertently triggered while reading, so please mind the tags, consider how they might interact with your own triggers/sensitivities/preferences, and read safely.

The weekend after the baby shower, Ben came home in the middle of the afternoon with the back of his speeder full of groceries. He’d been running errands for most of the day, after dropping Poppy off at the mall in Emita to meet some of her school friends. The girls were going to have a sleepover at a different house.

Armitage’s speeder was gone, of course. He was working today—helping prep the food for some wedding at Junari Point. Ben thought it was a little much, considering he was thirty-three weeks pregnant.

Though Ben had practically begged him to delegate more to Cardinal and Phasma, Armitage was determined to do as much as possible himself. After the baby was born, in a few more weeks, he probably wouldn’t return to work for the better part of a year. He wanted to make the most of the time he had left, and Ben had realized it was pointless to argue with him.

As Ben trundled the groceries into the house, he heard voices coming from another room. Muffled laughter. Odd—Ben had thought Teo was going out today. He put the bags on the kitchen counter and followed the voices to Teo’s room.

The door was open, so there was no way to avoid seeing Teo in his bed, entangled with a petite, blue-skinned Twi’lek girl—Aola. She was on top of him; they were both mostly dressed, thank the Force.

Teo was so distracted that he didn’t sense Ben’s presence right away. As Ben moved to shut the door (and then make some noise in the other room, so they realized someone else was in the house), Aola happened to glance up.

She yelped, blushing indigo, tugging her blouse closed over her pale pink bra. Teo looked up and around; noticing Ben, he sat up so quickly that he almost knocked Aola off the bed entirely.

Ben slammed the door. He heard a commotion on the other side—the two of them rushing to straighten their clothes, presumably. He gave the kids a minute to make themselves decent, then rapped on the door.

“Come in,” Teo called weakly.

When Ben opened the door, the kids were sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, as far apart as possible, spines straight and hands clasped primly in their laps. Teo appeared to be on the brink of an aneurysm; Aola looked more composed, but her face was deep blue with embarrassment. Ben almost wanted to laugh—the kids looked so mortified—but restrained himself.

“Hi, Mr. Organa,” Aola said, with a strained but polite smile. They had only met a handful of times, briefly, after some of Teo’s crashball games.

“You can call me Ben.” It seemed only fair, given the circumstances. Not much point in formality. He glanced at Teo. “I didn’t know you were having company over today.”

Teo coughed. “We were, uh. Working on a project,” he said.

Sure they were, Ben thought, amused. He turned to Aola. “So are you staying for dinner?”

Aola brightened a little, apparently taking the invitation as a good sign, while Teo blanched. “I’d love to,” she said.

“Great. We’re having tendermeat,” Ben told her. He glanced at Teo. “Want to help me put the groceries away?”

Looking as grim as if he were being walked to his execution, Teo rose and followed Ben into the hall, while Aola remained in the bedroom. They walked into the kitchen together, which was full of late afternoon sunlight.

Ben took a moment to collect his thoughts; this was new ground for him as a parent and he didn’t want to mess up.

To Ben’s knowledge, Teo had never really dated before. Outside of sports, he was a pretty shy kid, and always had been. Growing up, Teo found it hard to tell which of his peers liked him as a person and which were more interested in the fact that he was a prince. Past disappointments made him hesitant to branch out socially.

He must really like Aola, if he was putting himself out there at all. Ben hoped her interested was genuine, for Teo’s sake. She seemed like a perfectly nice girl—after all, she was the one who’d talked some sense into Teo during the baby shower—but it was hard to be sure. Having her over for dinner might give some insight.

“Buddy,” Ben said at last, with a sigh. “Even if nobody’s home, you’ve got to close the door. It’s just common sense.”

Teo blinked, like that wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “Oh,” he said. “Um. Right. Sorry about that.” He coughed. “So…”

“Relax, you’re not in trouble.” Ben was seventeen once. It was a long time ago, but he remembered what it was like. “You’re using protection, right?”

When Teo was embarrassed, he reddened in blotchy patches, like his dad. “We don’t—I mean, we haven’t—” He cleared his throat, glancing away with a pinched expression. “It’s not like that.”

“Okay. But if and when it is like that, you need to be safe.” Because Teo was an omega, he was unlikely to impregnate anyone. Meanwhile, Aola was female and seemed unlikely to impregnate Teo. But it was better to be careful. “I know you’re on suppressants, but those aren’t one-hundred percent effective at—”

“I know, Dad.”

“We don’t need two babies around here,” Ben went on. “That’s all I’m saying.”

Somehow, Teo’s blush deepened. “Got it,” he said.

“Good.” Ben clapped Teo on the shoulder. “Just remember to close the door next time.”

***

By the time Armitage came home, Ben had roped Teo and Aola into helping him prepare dinner. Aola did not seem to have much practical cooking experience, but she was doing her best.

“I didn’t know you’d invited a friend over,” Armitage said to Teo, in a lightly disapproving tone. He preferred to know in advance if they were going to have company. This probably wasn’t how he’d imagined meeting Teo’s girlfriend.

“Kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Ben told him, to spare Teo from having to answer. “Feeling okay?”

“Of course,” Armitage replied, without hesitation.

Even without the Force, Ben could tell that was a lie. Armitage had been in the kitchen all day; his feet were probably killing him, to say nothing of his hips and back. He was too pregnant to be working so much. “Food’s not ready,” Ben told him. “You should sit down.”

Armitage shot him a look, like he thought Ben was being dramatic. But he needed to change out of his work clothes, anyway, which gave him an excuse to disappear into their bedroom until it was time to gather at the table.

Despite the earlier awkwardness, Aola was perfectly charming throughout dinner. When she addressed Armitage as “Mr. Organa,” Ben noticed that he did not tell her she could call her by his given name. He was, however, receptive when she asked about his job and the logistics of catering. Teo must’ve prepped her before Armitage came home. Smart move.

In addition to crashball, they learned, Aola’s hobbies included holochess and null-gee polo. Her family came from Kala’uun, a major city on Ryloth, but moved to Chandrila when she was six years old. She had three little sisters.

“So, Aola, what are your plans for university?” Armitage asked, inevitably.

“Well, I applied to the University of Cadomai, on Cadomai Prime. I’m really hoping to get into Sanbra, but I won’t know for a while,” she replied. “Teo had the right idea, doing early acceptance.”

Armitage looked up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’d feel so much better if I just knew one way or the other,” Aola said. “Teo already knows what his options are, so he’s got plenty of time to deal with scholarships and housing and all the rest, but I’ll be waiting for another three or four months.”

From opposite sides of the table, Ben and Armitage exchanged a brief look. As far as Ben knew, Teo was still preparing his applications. But apparently he’d submitted at least one of them early, without telling either of his parents.

“Right,” Armitage said slowly. “Teo, remind me again who you’ve heard back from?”

Teo, who had been pretending to be keenly interested in his water glass, squirmed a little under his father’s gaze. “Um. Well. Theed, Sanbra and B’Nal,” he said, after an awkward pause. “Still waiting on Ov Taraba.”

Nothing more was said on the subject, because Ben steered the conversation to the crashball season. The kids had a match later this week.

When dinner was over, Aola insisted on clearing the table. Teo hurried to help her, likely to avoid his parents. Soon the sounds of dishes clattering together and running water could be heard from the kitchen.

Once they were alone in the dining room, with the kids safely out of earshot, Armitage’s comportment changed. His expression was pinched, and Ben could sense his agitation, like an itch at the base of his skull. “Early acceptance?” Armitage whispered hotly. “He wasn’t planning to submit any applications until next month!”

“I know.” Ben was equally baffled. It wasn’t like Teo to keep things from them, especially not something so important. “Don’t get worked up just yet—”

“I’m not worked up,” Armitage said sharply, but there was a muscle twitching at the corner of his clenched jaw.

“Think of the baby,” Ben cautioned, in a low voice, which made his husband glower. In the background, he could hear Teo and Aola whispering together, sometimes laughing. There was an occasional soft splashing noise.

With some difficulty, Ben managed to steer Armitage into the sitting room, where he remained until it was time for Aola to leave.

“Thank you for having me,” Aola said with a smile. Most of her unease seemed to have faded when she realized Ben wasn’t going to make a big deal out of the earlier incident, but he sensed that she was still embarrassed and wanted to make a better impression. “You have a lovely home.”

“Our pleasure,” Ben told her. “Come back any time.”

Teo walked Aola to her speeder, which was parked around the other side of the house. That was why Ben hadn’t noticed it right away when he came home. After the two of them stepped outside, they sure seemed to take their time saying goodnight.

He returned at last, looking grimly between his parents. “So. Um—”

“When did you get your acceptance letters?” Armitage asked bluntly. He got up from the sofa with some effort, one hand braced against his lower back.

“Only, like, two weeks ago—”

Armitage’s voice jumped. “Two weeks?”

“We didn’t know you’d applied anywhere yet,” Ben said. He touched his mate’s elbow, in what he meant to be a calming gesture. “That wasn’t the plan. What changed?”

“Nothing. I just—wanted to get the applications out of the way,” Teo said, unconvincingly.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ben asked.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Teo,” Armitage said, his tone so full of disapproval that Teo squirmed a little. “You don’t really expect either of us to believe that. What are you hiding?”

“Stars, I’m not _hiding_ anything,” Teo replied immediately. He raised his shoulders, as if bracing himself. “I don’t know why you’re giving me the third degree over applications that I was going to send anyway—”

“The University of Sanbra,” Armitage cut across him. His tone was sharper now, each word crisp. “You said you liked their xenobotany program.”

Teo hesitated, as though he sensed a trap. “I do.”

“But you also like that your little girlfriend wants to go there.”

“So what?” Teo asked with a scoff. “It’s a good school. Lots of people want to go there—”

“If you think you’re going to base your whole future around some girl from your crashball team—”

“Dad!”

“I should’ve guessed it was something like this,” Armitage went on. He was struggling to modulate his voice, and his neck was turning a blotchy red. “We hardly see you anymore. You’ve made no effort to engage with the family—”

“What does it matter?” Teo asked, throwing up his hands in frustration. “After this summer, I’m not going to be here!”

Armitage’s face spasmed briefly before he got it under control. “That may be. But in the meantime, I expect you to—” He broke off with a grimace, touching a hand to his belly, his body tensed.

“Is something wrong?” There was a note of panic in Teo’s voice.

A long moment passed before Armitage let out a breath. “No, no—it’s just a practice contraction, I think,” he said, unsteadily. He still looked uncomfortable.

Practice contractions. Armitage had noticed them in recent weeks, off and on; it was normal for how far along he was. The doctors said it was nothing to be worried about, as long as the contractions didn’t get stronger and he didn’t have more than four in an hour.

But Ben couldn’t help the fear that shot through him like a blaster bolt. He sensed it in his mate, too. With Poppy, Armitage felt only a few irregular contractions before his water broke. It was much too early for this baby to be born.

“Here, let me help you,” Ben said quickly, moving to support Armitage’s arm as he slowly lowered himself onto the sofa. Usually, changing position was enough to make a practice contraction ease up. If that didn’t help, Ben had already resolved to take Armitage to the medcenter. “Nice and easy.”

Hovering by the sofa, Teo looked stricken. “Should I—”

“Go get a glass water,” Ben told him.

Teo practically bolted into the kitchen.

Over the next hour, Armitage had a few more cramps, each one weaker than the last. Ben made him lie quietly on the sofa for a while longer, anyway, just to be safe. At last, when Ben was fairly sure that Armitage wasn’t going into labor, he helped his mate up and walked him to their bedroom.

By that time, Teo had retreated to his own room. Ben sensed a humming anxiety behind the door. He also sensed that Teo wouldn’t be receptive if Ben tried to talk to him now. That was happening more and more lately. Though Ben hated the distance he felt between them, he didn’t know how to bridge it. Some alpha.

***

Early in their courtship, Ben had learned that Armitage loved nothing more than an extravangly long bath. He grew up on worlds where water was strictly rationed, used only for drinking and cooking. Even after all these years, he relished having access to as much clean, hot water as he wanted.

A bath never failed to help Armitage relax, so Ben filled the tub in their refresher with warm (but not too hot) water and then helped his mate to climb in. It was an almost nightly ritual; Armitage ached all over, and the warm water was good for his sore muscles.

He left Armitage to it for a while, but eventually went to check on him.

The ‘fresher was steamy and dim. Armitage lay back in the tub, which was big enough for the two of them—one of Armitage’s requirements when they bought this house, all those years ago.

Looking at his mate, Ben was reminded of another night, months ago now, in the hotel on Baralou. They had bathed together after the heat, washing each other’s bodies, not yet sure if there was a baby in Armitage’s belly. It was obvious now, of course. The top of Armitage’s belly rose above the cloudy water like a pale island.

“You feeling okay?” Ben asked softly, sitting on the edge of the tub.

Armitage hummed. His eyes were half closed. “Better now,” he said.

“How’s my baby?”

“Unhappy with me, I think,” Armitage said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have let myself get so worked up. Stupid, really. I just…” He trailed off, grimacing.

“What?”

“I thought he was coming around,” he said, and Ben knew what he was thinking of: the baby shower, and the little outfit Teo had chosen for his new sister. The water sloshed quietly as he moved a hand to his belly, rubbing gently. “I don’t know what changed. Maybe nothing did.”

“It’s going to be all right,” Ben told him, with more confidence than he felt. What his mate needed right now was reassurance, not realism. Still, Ben wished he could offer something more concrete.

“Easy for you to say,” Armitage muttered. “He makes regular eye contact with you. Meanwhile, he can barely stand to look at me.”

“If it makes you feel better, he kept the acceptance-letter thing from me, too. So, really, he’s ignoring us both.”

That made Armitage laugh, if only weakly. Then he shook his head. “I need to talk to him. Get to the bottom of this,” he said. “Not tonight, but—soon.”

Eventually, Ben helped Armitage out of the tub, determined not to let him slip. Then, in part to give his mate some privacy, he went back into their bedroom and changed into the old shirt and shorts that he slept in.

Armitage waddled out of the ‘fresher wearing his favorite robe (soft, black and pleated), which he could just barely wrap around his middle these days. Ben planned to buy an identical robe in a bigger size, one that would be more comfortable to wear through the last weeks of pregnancy and postpartum, but he had to time it carefully. If he caught Armitage on a bad day, or when he was feeling especially hormonal, there was a chance he’d take the gift as some kind of insult.

After easing himself into bed and leaning back against a carefully-arranged pile of pillows, Armitage reached into the nightstand for a little bottle of lotion. He always applied it after a bath; the lotion soothed his stretched, itchy skin.

“Want me to do it?” Ben asked, as Armitage opened his robe enough to expose his belly. He was not wearing anything underneath.

Armitage glanced up. “If you like,” he said, and handed over the bottle.

Most nights, Armitage preferred to moisturize himself, complaining that Ben took too long. (Ben, meanwhile, considered himself thorough and attentive, rather than slow.) But other nights, when he was in the right mood, he seemed to bask in Ben’s touch.

Ben squeezed a generous measure of lotion into his palm and then rubbed it between his hands to warm it. The lotion had a clean, pleasant smell that he’d come to associate with his mate. He spread it over Armitage’s belly and began to gently massage it into the skin.

Some of the old stretch marks had turned pink as the bump grew. New ones had appeared on Armitage’s hips and belly, purple-red in color, sore-looking. There were fresh stretch marks on the underside of his belly, as well, which Ben could see from this angle but Armitage most likely had not, given that he couldn’t even see his own feet. Ben decided not to mention them.

The baby was big enough now that her movements could be seen from the outside, Armitage’s belly twitching and bulging in places as she kicked and rolled over. Poppy was fascinated by this, always asking to feel the baby kick; Teo, meanwhile, found the whole business somewhat disturbing. Recently, Ben pressed his ear to Armitage’s belly, listening for the baby’s heartbeat, and got kicked in the face for his trouble. (Armitage laughed so hard that he accidentally pissed a little, for which he blamed Ben.)

As Ben moved his hands in slow, concentric circles, the baby squirmed and wriggled in response. She was getting stronger. “Somebody’s active tonight,” he commented.

Armitage hummed. “She likes the attention,” he said, which made Ben smile.

Though the baby didn’t have complex thoughts yet, it was possible that she had some simple, instinctive awareness of him through the Force. Ben liked to think so, anyway. When he held her in his arms, he hoped something within her recognized him.

***

“Is that new stabilizing ring working out for you?” Ben asked, glancing across the workbench at Poppy. They were in the garage, where Ben kept his tools.

“It’s much better than the old one,” Poppy replied, without looking up. Her long red hair was pulled back in a loose bun, so it didn’t get in her way as she tinkered with her lightsaber. “Feels a lot steadier now.”

Poppy had disassembled the lightsaber so she could carefully inspect and clean each component. Her eyes were dark and focused as she worked.

It was a school night, and Armitage had taken Teo to dinner, ostensibly because they’d had little one-on-one time in recent months. Ben knew his mate planned to to clear the air, or at least make an attempt at an honest conversation with their son. He hoped they made progress.

In the meantime, Ben thought this was a good opportunity to spend some quality time with Poppy.

Now that she was in high school, Poppy was busier than ever, and not just with her schoolwork. While Teo didn’t socialize much outside of sports, Poppy had always been effortlessly popular, a princess in all senses. Classmates reliably invited her to parties, sleepovers and other activities. She was already talking about running for student council next year (Armitage and Leia both encouraged this), and she would probably win whatever position she ran for.

She was flourishing, as Ben had expected. The tradeoff was that he was seeing less of her than he was used to. Somehow, despite knowing it was coming, he had not been fully prepared for this change. She’d been his baby for so long.

They had a few more years together, at least. He intended to make the most of them. Tonight, that involved cleaning their lightsabers. When they were done, Ben would order out for dinner and then they’d watch _Republic Medcenter,_ or whatever holodrama Poppy was obsessed with currently.

Ben opened his mouth to ask what she wanted for dinner, but stopped short, the words sticking in his throat as a sudden wave of unease slammed into him: cold and nauseating. His lightsaber’s power pack clattered to the ground. He felt strangely distant from his body.

Blood rushed in Ben’s ears. When the feeling passed—after a minute or an hour, he couldn’t tell—his skin was tacky with sweat and his pulse was pounding.

“What is it?” Poppy was staring at him from the other side of the workbench, wide-eyed. She could tell he’d sensed something.

“I don’t know,” Ben told her, seeing no reason to lie.

But he suspected it wasn’t good.

Ben hurried into the house. When he grabbed his comm, it was already chiming. He knew without looking that it was Teo on the other end.

“What happened?” Ben asked, without preamble. He could feel his pulse in his throat.

Teo’s voice wavered. “Dad fell. He slipped at the top of some steps, and—”

Without meaning to, Ben imagined it. He tried to banish the mental picture of his pregnant mate falling down a flight of stairs. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. He fell pretty hard. I, um—” Teo broke off, and Ben heard Armitage’s voice in the background, too quiet to make out the words. That was probably a good sign, but Ben felt sick.

“I’m going to drive him to the medcenter.”

“Right. Good.” Ben forced himself to talk a breath. “Let me talk to your dad.”

There were a few muffled noises as Teo handed the comm over. Despite the circumstances, a little rush of relief went through Ben when he heard his mate’s voice: “Ben—”

“How do you feel?”

“Not terrible, considering—”

“Any contractions?”

“No, nothing like that. I landed mostly on my side. It’s probably all right,” Armitage said, quickly, before Ben could cut in again. While he babbled, voice thin, Ben got the sense that he was attempting to reassure himself as much as Ben.

Through their bond, heightened by the Force, Ben could sense his mate’s fear, like an echo. He forced himself to ask, “Has she moved since you fell?”

Armitage hesitated. “Not yet,” he admitted.

Ben understood, without having to ask, that Armitage would say nothing more on the subject—not over the comm, not in front of Teo.

“I’ll meet you at the medcenter,” Ben told him. “I’m on my way right now. Okay?”

“Okay,” Armitage replied, almost mechanically. He ended the call.

Ben had a vague plan to drop Poppy off with Han before going to the medcenter. Though she was plenty old enough to be home alone, she was upset and worried about Armitage and the baby; Ben didn’t want to abandon her in such a state.

Han wasn’t answering his comm, however, and Ben couldn’t guess if he was home. Leia, meanwhile, was offworld. In the end, Ben saw no choice but to take Poppy with him. She seemed glad about it, not wanting to be pushed aside.

Naturally, they hit traffic. By the time they arrived at the medcenter, Armitage was in the middle of a nonstress test, which measured the baby’s movements and heart rate over a certain period of time. Ben would have to wait until the test was over to see Armitage. That rankled—his instincts were screaming that he needed to be with his mate—but there was nothing for it.

He and Poppy found Teo in a waiting room on the other side of the labor ward. Teo was slumped in a chair, a few old holozines spread out on the low table in front of him. His face was splotchy and red. Obviously distracted by something, he didn’t notice Poppy and Ben until they were in front of him.

“Hey. Um—” Teo scrubbed a hand over his face, sitting up straighter. “They said they were going to do some tests.”

“I know.” Ben paused, studying Teo for a second. Then he reached into his pocket for his credit chip and offered it to Poppy. “Think you can find a vending machine?”

Poppy frowned, like she suspected Ben was trying to get her out of the way. She hated to miss out on anything—but, much to Ben’s relief, she accepted the chip without arguing. “Sure, Dad,” she said, and left the waiting room.

When she was out of earshot, Ben sat in a chair beside Teo’s. They didn’t speak for half a minute.

“So what happened?” Ben asked eventually, in a quiet voice. Teo had told him once already, but all in a rush, without time to process.

“We were walking back to the speeder,” Teo said. “It rained earlier, but I didn’t realize it was so slick. I tried to catch him—” He sniffed, glancing away from Ben. “This is my fault.”

Ben shook his head. “He slipped. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“But we wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me,” Teo insisted. “We went for dinner because Dad wanted to talk, and he only wanted to do that because I—” He broke off with a grimace. “I knew something like this was going to happen.”

That gave Ben pause. “What do you mean?”

Teo hesitated. “I’ve been having this dream,” he said at last. “For months. It always ended like this.” He brandished an outdated issue of _Beings Holozine,_ which had been lying on the table. “Here, in a medcenter.”

“You dreamed about your dad having a fall?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I know that’s what it was now,” Teo said unhappily. “But before, it was just pieces. Images. Feelings. I didn’t see the whole picture until it already happened. I just knew it was something bad.”

Ben stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know! The Force never showed me anything before.” Teo seemed to curl into himself a little, defensively. He wasn’t quite looking at Ben. “And… I didn’t want to upset Dad over nothing, if it wasn’t what I thought it was. He would’ve thought I was trying to be hurtful. Which is—you know.” He slumped in his seat. “Fair. Considering.”

“Teo…”

“I know I’ve been horrible, okay? I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said, and I didn’t want to add one more thing to the pile.” Teo took a shuddering breath. “But I screwed that up, too, and now I hurt Dad and the baby—”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” Ben said, turning in his chair so he was faced toward Teo. “Whatever happened, whatever you saw—this isn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve realized—”

Ben shushed him. “You know what Rey says about visions from the Force?” he asked. “They’re misleading. Hard to interpret. The future is changing all the time. Even if you have a vision, you can’t be sure of what it really means, so the best thing to do is let things happen as they will.”

Teo opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get the words out, Poppy reappeared, her arms full of packaged snacks. She dumped them onto the low table and gave Ben his credit chip.

“I guess we’ll be set for a while,” Ben said, as Poppy sat in a chair across from him.

“Didn’t know what you wanted,” Poppy said with a shrug. She chewed her lip. “Have they said anything?”

“Not yet. Soon, probably,” Ben told her, as if speaking the words would make them so.

The last time he was in a waiting room like this, separated from his mate, was when Armitage was pregnant with Poppy and had a labor scare at twenty-five weeks. Eventually, Ben was allowed to see him, but the waiting was unbearable.

Ben remembered thinking, despite himself, that they were probably going to lose the baby. It was too soon; she was too fragile. But she wasn’t born that night, and though she did come early, much sooner than they’d hoped, it turned out fine in the end. Poppy was here, and fourteen, and healthy. He was grateful for that.

He just hoped this baby would get to be fourteen someday, too.

***

Almost an hour passed before there was any news.

At last, a doctor pulled Ben aside and explained that both Armitage and the baby were fine. He was badly bruised on his right side, but she was well-cushioned by amniotic fluid and unharmed by the fall. Still, the doctor wanted to monitor both of them for a few more hours, just to be safe.

Armitage was in a single-patient room, propped up in a narrow bed, attached to multiple monitors. He looked exhausted when Ben walked in, but did not appear obviously injured.

“Hey,” Ben said softly, taking a seat at Armitage’s bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. But that’s the worst of it,” Armitage said. “She started kicking as soon as they hooked up the monitors. Before that, I think she was punishing me for giving her a shock.”

That made Ben smile faintly. “I was worried, when they wouldn’t let me see you,” he said. “I’m glad you’re coming home tonight.”

“You and me both,” Armitage muttered. “Is Poppy at home?”

“She’s here. I couldn’t get a hold of Han, and I didn’t want to leave her,” Ben replied. “Teo’s worried sick out there. He thinks it’s his fault you fell.”

Armitage frowned. “Why would he think that? I slipped, and he caught me.”

“He did?” Ben asked. That wasn’t how Teo recounted the incident.

“Well, he tried. I felt it—not a hand, but a touch. He must’ve used the Force. I would’ve landed on my front otherwise, and that would’ve…” He didn’t complete the thought, but he touched a hand to his belly. The baby would’ve been hurt, probably, if Teo hadn’t intervened.

Ben squeezed his mate’s thigh, reassuringly.

“I asked Teo about the university applications,” Armitage went on, quieter. “You know what he told me? That he submitted them early because he wanted it all squared away before the baby comes. And he didn’t want to bother us with it, because he figured we were too busy. A fair assumption, considering I haven’t asked about his plans in months.”

Come to think of it, Ben realized he hadn’t checked in with Teo recently, either. When he felt Teo pull away, he didn’t press, thinking it would avoid further conflict. For months, Teo had seemed disinterested in the baby—and, in turn, Ben and Armitage must’ve seemed disinterested in him.

They’d started talking about Teo’s plans for university a year ago, never imagining that Armitage would become pregnant in the future. If Teo had followed the original timeline, he would’ve sent his applications just a few weeks before the baby was due—assuming she didn’t come early. By the time he knew which schools had accepted him, they would’ve had a newborn in the house.

But with things as they were now, Teo would be able to weigh his options and make a decision before their lives became even more chaotic. He’d adjusted the plan to better suit the whole family—and though Ben still wished he’d told someone, he recognized now that Teo was only trying to be considerate.

“He’s a good boy,” Armitage said with a sniff.

“I know he is.”

“When we were talking earlier, I realized I never congratulated him on getting accepted to those schools,” Armitage went on. His voice was full of guilt. “I was so upset that he hadn’t told me upfront that I didn’t even think to tell him how proud I am of him.”

“There’s time for that,” Ben said. “Want to see him now?”

A few minutes later, Ben collected Poppy and Teo from the waiting room.

“It’s really not that bad,” Armitage said automatically, in response to the muted horror on the kids’ faces when they saw him hooked up to an array of monitors.

As they gathered around the bed, where Armitage had been instructed to remain for the time being, it occurred to Ben that Teo and Poppy had never seen Armitage like this.

“We’re all going home in a few hours,” Ben said, in a light tone. He gestured vaguely to encompass the medical equipment. “All that’s just to be safe.”

Poppy seemed to believe him, her posture relaxing noticeably, but Teo’s brow was furrowed. He turned to Armitage. “You’re really okay?”

“A few bruises, that’s all,” Armitage assured him. “Nothing to be worried about.”

Armitage assured him. Suddenly, a bedside monitor beeped and flashed. Despite himself, Ben jumped a little, alarmed. So did the kids.

“What’s that?” Poppy asked, her voice thin. “Should we get someone?”

“No, no—she’s just kicking,” Armitage said quickly. He touched a hand to his belly, rubbing carefully at the spot where the baby must be moving. “Which is a good thing.”

Teo studied the monitor for a moment, which showed two sets of vital signs, mapped out in glowing lines and numbers. “Hey, Dad,” he said, delicately, glancing at Armitage. “Can I feel?”

***

After the medical scare, however minor it turned out to be, it wasn’t hard for Ben to talk Armitage into taking his parental leave a few weeks earlier than he originally planned.

Ben wanted his mate to rest as much as possible during this time, but he knew that was unrealistic. Armitage was happiest when he was productive; if he couldn’t be at work, he’d keep busy some other way. In this case, that meant throwing himself into preparing their home for the baby.

Twenty years ago, Ben and Armitage bought this house partly because it had four bedrooms: one for them, and one for each of their future children. If they decided to have more than three, they figured they could add onto the house, or simply move.

But by Poppy’s first birthday, they knew the third bedroom would go unoccupied. It turned into a playroom for the kids, until they got a little older, after which it became a rarely-used guest room. They didn’t have many houseguests, especially not after Rey got married; when she and Rose came to Chandrila, they almost always bunked together on the _Falcon,_ where they practically lived anyway.

A few months from now, the room would no longer be empty. Ben almost couldn’t believe it.

They’d worked on the nursery off and on, but now that the baby shower had passed and he had the time to focus on it exclusively, Armitage had Ben helping him with it most days while the kids were at school.

Today, they were painting. Well—Ben was painting, and Armitage was directing his efforts.

“I was thinking,” Ben said, dipping the roller in the paint tray. Weeks ago, Armitage had selected a soft, pale gray, which they both agreed looked calming. “Since you’re on leave now, maybe we should take a birth class.”

They never did during the other pregnancies, due to Armitage’s delicate health. Instead, they read a pile of books on the subject. But this time, there was nothing to stop them.

Armitage scoffed. “Why, so I can be the oldest person there, too?”

Last week, they toured the medcenter where Armitage planned to deliver, thinking it was a good idea to get acquainted with the place in advance. They were the oldest couple by far, surrounded by bright-eyed twenty- and thirty-somethings expecting their first babies.

“It’s not a big deal,” Ben told him.

“Of course you would say that,” Armitage muttered. “Nobody’s looking at you like you’re a freak of nature.”

“You’re not a freak of nature—”

“I’ve given birth twice, Ben. I know how it works.”

“Well, what about me? I could stand to brush up on things,” Ben said, a little miffed.

“Where’s this coming from?” Armitage asked, studying him. “It’s been a while, yes, but it’s not as if the process has changed.”

“No, but…” Ben gestured vaguely with the paint roller, unsure of how to explain. “I want it to be better this time.”

Neither of the past experiences was the peaceful birth they’d envisioned. Even during labor, Armitage didn’t get a break from his nausea. He puked throughout his long, painful labor with Teo, which culminated in two miserable hours of pushing.

Poppy’s birth was faster, but excruciating. When it became clear that the baby was coming that day, the medical staff had explained what complications might result from her prematurity. Even if she lived, she might have brain damage, or vision problems, or hearing loss. She might never walk. Armitage had seemed almost afraid to deliver her, to the point that he struggled to push. He’d sobbed and struggled through the birth.

Ben had felt helpless at the time. In hindsight, he felt guilty. Surely there was more he could’ve done to support his mate than hold his hand. He was determined to help Armitage have a better birth experience this time.

“I want to do a better job taking care of you,” Ben went on, in a low voice. “Whatever you need.”

“Oh, Ben,” Armitage said. He stepped closer and gently took the paint roller out of Ben’s hand, which was dripping onto the drop cloth. “I don’t know what you’re worried about. You did perfectly well the other times.”

“But I can do better. If you don’t want to take a class, we’ll do something else.” Lately, Ben had revisited some of the meditation techniques he learned from Luke when he was young. They could be applied in many situations. “I can show you breathing techniques, for the pain.”

Armitage sighed through his nose. “If it means that much to you, we can try it,” he said at last, which made Ben smile in relief. “But before we do that, I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“When we’re done here,” Armitage said, offering Ben the paint roller, “we might as well repaint our bedroom, too.”

***

Ben rotated the instructional hologram, squinting in concentration. “We need another adapter bolt,” he said, glancing at Teo.

The two of them were camped out on the floor in the middle of the partially-completed nursery, struggling to assemble the crib. They were surrounded by wooden components and hardware; the empty box, full of loose packaging, had been discarded on the other side of the room.

Dutifully, Teo began looking through the little pile of hardware that came in the box. “I think we used them all,” he said.

“You sure? There should be one more.”

Teo checked again. “Nope.”

Frowning, Ben looked himself and came up with nothing. “Great,” he muttered.

There was a lot of work left to do before the baby’s room looked like whatever Armitage had designed in his head, a hundred little details to attend to. At this point, the walls were painted, but only some of the furniture had been brought in or assembled; many items were still in their boxes. Ben had shelving units to install and pictures to artfully hang, among other things. Then there was the rest of the decorating.

(The giant snow bear plush did, in fact, take up a whole corner of the room—but impractical as it was, Ben, Poppy, Teo and even Armitage had become strangely fond of the bear in recent weeks, so they would have to sacrifice the space.)

The crib, at least, would be simple: a quick item to check off the list. Instant progress. At least, that was what Ben thought when he decided to make this his afternoon project. Somehow, he remembered this part being easier fourteen years ago.

“You’re not finished yet?” Armitage appeared in the doorway and surveyed the partially-constructed crib with a look of dismay. Somewhere behind him, Ben could hear Poppy humming as she puttered around in the kitchen, helping her dad with dinner. “Aola’s going to be here in twenty minutes.”

“So we’ve got plenty of time,” Ben said.

Unimpressed, Armitage looked at Teo. “Are you planning to change out of that shirt before dinner?”

The atmosphere at home had been much calmer since Armitage’s fall, though there was still tension at times. After a lengthy discussion, Armitage and Ben had concluded that Teo shouldn’t make long-term plans based on a relationship of a few months. The University of Sanbra was a good school, but he had been accepted by better ones—schools he wouldn’t suddenly want to transfer out of in the event of a catastrophic breakup.

Teo felt this was deeply hypocritical of them, considering how Ben and Armitage had formalized their bond just three months after they met. While he acknowledged that point, Armitage refused to budge and Ben agreed with him. To soften the blow a little, and possibly to demonstrate that it was nothing personal, Armitage had instructed Teo to invite Aola for dinner again. Teo seemed to accept it for the peace offering that it was.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Teo asked, looking down at himself with a frown. He was wearing one of the commemorative shirts that Han made sure to get from him each year during the Five Sabers, sold in gift shops during the races. This one was from 40 ABY, worn thin from almost a decade of regular wear. Teo was swimming in the shirt when he was eight years old, but he’d since grown into it.

“Nothing at all. I was just wondering,” Armitage said mildly, though they all knew he thought the shirts were tacky. He turned back to Ben. “Are the instructions too complicated? Is that it?”

“No,” Ben replied stiffly. “I think it came missing a part.”

“It’s not missing anything. You’ve lost a piece,” Armitage said, with an air of certainty.

“We did not,” Ben told him.

“You’d better find it,” Armitage went on, as if Ben hadn’t spoken. “The baby could choke.”

The baby would not be capable of crawling around and eating things off the floor for at least six months, Ben estimated, but he knew better than to mention that. “I’m going to complain to the manufacturer,” he said instead, which made Armitage huff.

“Do that sometime before the baby comes, please,” Armitage said dryly, and left the room. His waddle was a little more pronounced now, Ben noticed. As the baby got bigger and settled lower in Armitage’s pelvis, his sciatica worsened. Lately, he’d complained of shooting pains along his right leg; rest and warm compresses only did so much to help.

A few minutes later, Poppy poked her into the room. She studied Ben and Teo: still sitting on the floor, surrounded by hardware, the instructional hologram glowing between them. “So which piece did you lose?”

“An adapter bolt,” Teo said.

“We didn’t lose it,” Ben corrected him.

“But we don’t have it, either,” Teo pointed out.

Poppy looked thoughtful. She cast her gaze around the room, then stepped over to the changing table, kneeled beside it and felt around underneath. A moment later, she turned to Ben with her hand outstretched. “Is this it?”

A bolt rested on her palm.

“Huh,” Ben said. “How do you think it got under there?”

“Found it,” Poppy yelled.

“Ben, did you even look?” Armitage called from the other room.

“Turns out, I didn’t need to! The Force is so powerful—”

Armitage made a choking noise that might’ve been a laugh. “Ben—”

Elsewhere, a bell chimed.

Teo scrambled to his feet. “I’ll get the door,” he said said, before Poppy could volunteer.

Ben watched the two of them go, then sighed a little, fondly, and put the adapter bolt with the other bits of hardware, hoping it didn’t roll away again. He would just have to finish the crib another day.

***

Armitage had reached the stage of pregnancy where he wanted to throw away practically everything in the house.

Ben probably should’ve anticipated this. Armitage got this way when he was pregnant with Teo, during the last few weeks—he wanted the house cleaned from top to bottom and cleared of any extraneous clutter (a term Armitage applied loosely to many things). He wasn’t feeling well enough to engage in such vigorous activities, however, so Ben followed his instructions.

Teo was born at thirty-six weeks and three days. Currently, Armitage was thirty-six weeks and five days along—nearly full-term. He’d never been this pregnant before.

Reaching that milestone was a relief, but with it came a sense of urgency. Though there had been no signs of labor so far, Armitage felt sure that the baby’s arrival was imminent, which intensified his need to prepare the house.

Ben tried to help (and insisted in some cases, like when Armitage wanted to stand on a chair to clean light fixtures), but Armitage was consistently unsatisfied with his efforts, for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate. Sometimes it was better just to leave him to it as he meticulously cleaned and sorted and tossed things out.

Their bedroom was an exception to the clutter-clearing rule. It seemed to be getting denser and closer all the time. Armitage kept adding blankets to their bed; he was particular about which blankets they slept with, and the order in which they were piled. Once, when Ben stripped the bed to wash them (because Armitage was in a mood where he wanted all their clothes and sheets laundered), Armitage became so upset that he almost cried.

He was nesting. With the baby due soon, his body was urging him to prepare a safe, warm, comfortable place in which to give birth. Though he knew he’d deliver in the medcenter, Armitage rested easier when he was surrounded by the familiar smell of his mate.

Often, when he had exhausted himself cleaning or rearranging some other part of the house, he retreated into the nest for a midafternoon nap, curling up around his belly to sleep. (Ben always loved to see him like that: round and full and content, utterly at ease.) After an hour or two, he woke and returned to whatever he’d been dusting, sweeping or polishing before.

Ben did not realize quite how intense the nesting had become, however, until he came home one afternoon and found Armitage in the middle of a tirade. Teo and Poppy sat wide-eyed and helpless on the couch while he paced back and forth in front of them.

“Do you have any idea how much dirt I cleaned off the blinds in your room this morning?” he was asking Poppy. If Ben had to guess, the amount of dirt was probably small—but when Armitage was this pregnant, even a trace was too much. “How could you not notice how disgusting they’d gotten?”

“Um. Well,” Poppy said slowly. Her brow was furrowed, like she was calculating the correct answer.

Armitage didn’t let her finish. “I cleared off the tops of your dressers and the vanity. It was an absolute mess—”

“You threw out my makeup?” Poppy looked appalled. “Dad—”

“You have too much of it! We all have too much of everything! The whole house is a disaster—”

“I feel like _disaster_ is kind of a strong word,” Teo said, then snapped his mouth shut when Armitage shot him a quelling look.

“I don’t want to hear anything from you,” Armitage said darkly. His tone got sharper and more irritated as he went on, and the kids looked like they wanted to disappear under the couch cushions. “You can’t even put your clothes in the hamper after crashball practice. They end up on the floor until I pick them up, and the smell permeates the whole room. Do you like living in your own filth? Is that it? How can it be that I’m the only person in this family who cares about the state of our home?”

Ultimately, the kids meekly promised to clean their rooms from top to bottom and gather any clothes that they’d outgrown or hadn’t worn in a while. Only then did Armitage storm into the other room to reorganizing the baby’s clothes for the third or fourth time.

Teo and Poppy corralled Ben in the kitchen as soon as Armitage was out of earshot.

“He went on like that for half an hour,” Poppy whispered. She seemed unsettled, probably because Armitage almost never raised his voice to her. “It was horrible.”

“Is that normal?” Teo asked. “I feel like that’s not normal. He never gets worked up like that.”

“Probably an omega thing,” Poppy told him, and Teo elbowed her.

Ben was shaking his head. “Your dad’s just feeling a little antsy because the baby’s due soon and there’s a lot left to do around here,” he said. “We just have to be patient and help him while we wait it out. A few more weeks, and then—”

“Weeks?” Poppy squawked in dismay. “He threw out all my makeup! He wants to get rid of half my clothes—”

“I don’t smell bad,” Teo said insistently. “My personal hygiene is great. He’s smelling things that aren’t even there—”

“To be fair, you do miss the hamper a lot,” Ben felt compelled to point out. “You should work on that.”

Teo was undeterred. “We can’t live like this,” he said grimly. Beside him, Poppy nodded. “You’ve got to do something.”

Ben wasn’t sure what either of the kids expected him to do about his mate’s bone-deep nesting instincts and hormonal responses. Still, he took a breath and wracked his brain for a solution. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”

***

Armitage had not yet booked the massage that Rey and Rose had gifted him; he was saving it for some nebulous point in the future when he would be more uncomfortable than he already was. Knowing him, Ben thought, Armitage would keep putting it off until the baby came.

It was clear to Ben that Armitage’s whole body ached. His sciatic pain was almost constant. He struggled to get comfortable in bed at night. A professional massage might give him some measure of relief. Now was as good a time as any.

After considerable coaxing and encouragement, Ben convinced Armitage to book the session this weekend and make a day of it: add in a few other services at the spa, have a late lunch, enjoy some alone time.

All told, Ben estimated that they had about six hours until Armitage came home. Plenty of time to do what they needed to do, Ben hoped.

Cleaning the whole house with the kids’ help was a bit like herding tookas at first, but once Ben assigned each of them a list of tasks, broken up room by room, it became more manageable. Some of the work had already been during one of Armitage’s earlier aggressive cleaning fits, which meant there were areas that needed only a little extra attention.

While Teo was furiously mopping the kitchen (“Why don’t we have a droid for this?”) and Poppy was dusting and wiping all surfaces in an almost meditative way, Ben finished putting up the shelves in the baby’s room. He got Teo to help him shuffle the furniture around, and Poppy artfully arranged books and little plush animals on the shelves. Armitage would probably reorganize the space again before the baby came, but at least it was complete.

They weren’t quite done with the detail work by the time Ben left to pick up Armitage. He left Teo and Poppy with strict instructions to redo all the mirrors in the house so they didn’t have streaks. He hoped it was done when he got back; streaks on mirrors bothered Armitage even when he wasn’t pregnant.

“We should have sex later,” Armitage said, without preamble, as soon as he was in the speeder. He radiated contentment; Ben sensed it through their mate bond and through the Force.

Ben raised his eyebrows, both surprised and intrigued by the request. They’d enjoyed an active sex life throughout most of the pregnancy, but their activities had slowed considerably in recent weeks. Few positions were comfortable for Armitage anymore; it was getting harder for him to move around.

“What did that masseur do to you, exactly?” Ben asked.

“I’m not sure. I fell asleep for some of it,” Armitage said happily. That was impressive—he’d been so uncomfortable lately that even sleeping was a challenge. “Stars, I haven’t felt this good in months. That Dor Namethian is a miracle worker.”

“Give me twenty minutes after we go to bed, and you’ll forget all about him,” Ben promised.

Ben drove slowly, to give the kids more time to fix the mirrors and attend to any other small details. By the time he pulled up to the house, it was almost dusk, the sky turning a bruised purple.

“Why does it smell like lemons in here?” Armitage asked, slipping off his shoes. He wrinkled his nose, but didn’t look displeased; generally, he liked the scent of lemons.

“Teo went a little overboard when he did the mop water,” Ben said lightly. “Dumped too much soap in. He had to mop the kitchen twice.”

Armitage looked puzzled. “Why was Teo mopping?”

“We thought we’d do a little cleaning while you were out,” Ben said lightly. “And get a couple of other things done.”

That made Armitage squint at him, suspicious. “Like what?”

“You’ll see.” Ben steered him into the hall, where they found the kids hovering anxiously in front of the door to the baby’s room.

When Ben opened the door, Armitage looked a little stunned.

The room looked even cozier in the soft, warm glow of the lamps. While Armitage gazed around the space, Ben knew he was picturing how he would use it: dressing the baby at the table, feeding her in the rocking chair by the window, putting her to sleep in the crib.

“You finished it?” Armitage managed at last. His eyes looked shiny and wet, and Ben realized with a jolt that he was on the verge of tears.

“So you don’t have to,” Teo said.

“If you don’t like it, we can do it again,” Poppy added quickly, when Armitage didn’t respond.

“No, no, it’s perfect—” Armitage’s voice was thick. He sniffed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t believe you did all this today—”

Teo’s brow was furrowed. He wasn’t used to seeing his father overcome with emotion. “Are you okay, Dad?”

“Just fine, sweetheart, thank you—” He didn’t sound convincing, not now that was weeping into his hands, but through their bond, Ben felt only a warm and overwhelming happiness, so great that it made his chest feel tight. Hormones were a funny thing.

Ben wrapped an arm around his mate, pulling him against his side, and flashed the kids a thumbs-up. Today, at least, they did all right.

***

When Armitage reached thirty-seven weeks, it seemed like a small miracle. The baby was full-term now and could be born at any time, without all the struggles that came with prematurity.

Each morning, Ben woke up thinking that it might be time. Armitage had carefully packed a bag for the medcenter, so they would be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. (Poppy helped him pack, cheerfully choosing a few tiny outfits for the baby to wear.)

But another week passed, without any signs of labor except for a few practice contractions that tapered off into nothing. The baby seemed comfortable where she was. Armitage, meanwhile, seemed increasingly miserable: hot, aching, exhausted. He waddled around like he had a grav-ball between his legs. Because nothing really fit him anymore, he’d taken to wearing sweatpants around the house all the time, a sure sign that he’d given up.

It was baffling. Suspicious, almost. Nobody had expected Armitage to last this long. Until he gave birth, his OB wanted to see him three times a week for a non-stress test, just to be safe.

Because of an increased risk of complications, including stillbirth, Armitage’s doctors were unwilling to let him stay pregnant for more than a week past his due date. If he didn’t go into labor soon, he’d have to be induced, which Ben knew he hoped to avoid.

The kids were treading lightly around Armitage, not wanting to stress him. Teo’s anxiety about the pregnancy had not yet disappeared. If anything, it seemed heightened now that the baby was due any day. But rather than disengage from the process like before, he’d gone in the opposite direction.

Whenever he was at home (which was most of the time, now that the crashball season was over), Teo rushed around doing little household tasks before his dad had a chance. Lately, Armitage could not so much as get off the couch without Teo materializing out of nowhere, insisting, “No, no, don’t get up, I’ll do it!”

His fussing was kind of sweet, Ben thought, even if it was grating at Armitage’s nerves. Teo might be overcompensating for his earlier behavior.

Poppy, meanwhile, was constantly offering Armitage food. She appeared to be using the Force to sense what he wanted at any given time, including sweet-sand cookies and Dantooine flapjacks, which made him unlikely to refuse.

In the hopes of making his life a little easier, Ben bought Armitage a pregnancy pillow. Shaped like a rounded letter “krill,” Armitage could wind it around himself however he liked and ease some of the pressure on different parts of his body.

The pillow had essentially replaced Ben: It took up two-thirds of their bed and made it almost impossible for him to hold his mate at night. There were moments when Ben suspected that Armitage loved the pillow more than he loved Ben. At least it helped him sleep.

One night, as Ben climbed into bed with him, Armitage paused in his careful pillow-arranging.

“Ben,” he said. “I need you to help me with something.”

“You’re not constipated again, are you?” Ben asked warily.

(Recently, Armitage went seven days without a bowel movement. He didn’t admit it until day six, when Ben finally asked why he’d been drinking so much Dressallian prune juice. Ultimately, the only thing that gave him relief was an enema, which Ben had to administer. The joys of marriage.)

“What? No,” Armitage said, reddening along his cheekbones. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I need you to have sex with me so I go into labor.”

Ben choked a little. “What?”

“I need to have the baby.” Armitage’s voice was low and pleading. “My whole body hurts. I can’t sleep. I’ll go mad if I have to spend another two weeks like this.” He leaned closer. “The prostaglandins in your semen should help soften my cervix, and orgasms trigger uterine contractions.”

Ben swallowed. “So you want me to…”

Armitage sighed through his nose. “I want you to come inside me, and make me come, as many times as possible,” he said primly.

“Oh. Wow.”

“I know it’s not the most appealing proposition,” Armitage said. “But I’m asking as a favor.”

That gave Ben pause. “Hold on,” he said slowly, sensing his mate’s embarrassment. “Do you think I’m not attracted to you or something?”

Armitage gave him a flat look, but his face was still a little red. “I’m the size of a purgill, Ben. You had to give me an enema last week.”

“Which I did lovingly, because you’re my husband and the father of my children—”

That made Armitage roll his eyes a little, impatient. “Is it a yes or a no?”

Ben clasped Armitage’s hands and looked into his eyes. “I’m going to get this baby out of you,” he promised.

***

They sent the kids to their grandparents’ place for the weekend, ostensibly so Armitage could get some rest and Ben could work on a few last-minute preparations. Really, they just needed the house to themselves for a few days.

Ben’s reading suggested that it was important to set the right mood. Before they got to business, he made sure their bedroom was quiet, warm and dim. The idea was to put Armitage at ease and make his body feel like it was time to have the baby.

Though Armitage plainly wanted to have sex, he seemed a little hesitant as they got undressed and climbed into bed. Reaching out carefully with the Force, Ben sensed the shape of the problem: At this late stage of pregnancy, Armitage felt huge and undesirable.

He would need some time and encouragement before he could fully enjoy himself, so Ben decided to take it slow. For a while, they simply kissed and stroked each other in the semidarkness. There was no rush. They had all weekend.

They shifted, sheets rustling as they rolled over. Ben cupped one of Armitage’s breasts; it felt like ripe fruit, soft and swollen. Soon they would be even bigger, leaking milk. A gentle squeeze was enough to make Armitage shudder. “Does that hurt?” Ben whispered.

“Just tender.” Armitage was breathing a little heavier now. “I forgot how sore they get right before the end.”

“A lot of omegas struggle to breastfeed, you know,” Ben said, gently massaging Armitage’s swollen tits, thumbing his nipples. They were pink as rosebuds, puffy, begging to be sucked. “Especially males. But not you.”

“Mmm, Ben…” Armitage squirmed a little, in pleasure as much as discomfort.

“You never had any trouble feeding our babies.” Ben leaned in to kiss the corner of Armitage’s mouth. His jaw. The soft spot at his throat, where his pulse fluttered. “I couldn’t have picked a better mate.”

Armitage made a low noise, almost a moan, and Ben could feel him relaxing under his hands. Ponderously, Armitage eased himself onto his side, where he would be more comfortable. He had to maneuver around his belly, holding it with one hand.

“Look at you,” Ben murmured, stroking and fondling his mate’s body. Forty-nine and the picture of a perfect omega: heavy with child, milk-swollen, soft and round. “Beautiful.”

Reaching between Armitage’s thighs, Ben found him wet. He whined a little when Ben began to stroke him there; his labia were swollen and sensitive, engorged with blood, and his clit was a hard little knot. Ben pushed one finger inside, then two, scissoring gently. His mate moaned, soft and needful.

Ben slotted into place behind him, pushing between his legs, into the slick heat. “Fuck, you’re tight…”

Armitage gave a breathy laugh. “I doubt that.”

“You don’t know how good you feel.” Wet and hot and deep. Ben loved his mate’s cunt: the perfect channel that had birthed their children. Already, he could feel the knot wanting to form. “Should I pull out?”

“No, no,” Armitage panted. He was pushing back against Ben’s thrusts. “I need it, Ben, let me have it—”

That was all the permission Ben needed. He buried his face against Armitage’s neck, breathing in the good, sweet smell of his skin, and rocked his hips, establishing a rhythm. They both moaned when the knot popped.

Time seemed to stretch and slow as they rutted together, tied on Ben’s knot. Sheets rustled. The bed creaked. Each of them gasped for breath. Ben pawed at Armitage’s side, his hip, his breasts, all the soft, rounded places he could reach. Armitage took Ben’s hand and pressed it to his belly, holding it there.

“Feel that?” Armitage asked breathlessly. The baby was kicking, as though perturbed. “This is yours. You gave this to me—”

Ben choked on a moan. “Armitage—”

“I’m yours, too.” He tipped his head back, looking over his shoulder at Ben, dark-eyed and flushed. “All of me, every part—”

Ben kissed him with his mouth open. A few more thrusts and he came, deep inside his mate. Armitage clenched around him, moaning like he could feel each pulse of Ben’s seed, which had made him so round and full.

Later, when the knot softened, Armitage rested on his side in their bed, fully nude and utterly content. A pillow supported his middle; another was wedged between his knees. Ben lay beside him, stroking and rubbing his belly to make the baby kick. Sometimes, when he pressed gently, a little hand or foot pressed back, as if responding to him. It never got old.

He never thought he’d experience this again.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” Ben said, his face close to Armitage’s belly. She could hear his voice, even if the sound meant nothing to her yet.

“Sooner rather than later, I hope,” Armitage said with a sigh.

Ben hummed and pressed a kiss to his mate’s belly. “In that case, I’d better get back to work.”

***

The weekend passed like a dream, both fast and slow.

In the middle of the afternoon, they climbed into the bathtub together to wash the sweat off their skin. After they finished scrubbing each other’s backs, Ben fingered Armitage until he came, legs spasming so hard that he sloshed water over the side of the tub.

Ben made love to him again after they returned to bed, on hands and knees, Armitage moaning into the mattress as Ben took him from behind. The next time, a few hours later, Armitage climbed into Ben’s lap and rode him.

They rested for a while after that, sheets tangled around their bodies. Their bedroom smelled of sweat and pregnant omega; Ben could almost taste it in the air.

While they lay together, Armitage brought Ben’s face to his plump breast, cupping the back of his neck with one hand. Nipple stimulation was also supposed to help induce labor, or so they’d read. Ben was certainly willing to try.

They were curled into each other, their bodies slotted together as closely as possible with Armitage’s swollen belly between them. Ben lapped at a sore, puffy nipple until Armitage was squirming, then finally took it into his mouth.

Armitage stroked Ben’s hair as he suckled, murmuring encouragement, sometimes adjusting Ben’s position slightly. It felt like a long time passed before Armitage switched him to his other breast.

Ben ordered Mandalorian food for dinner, not wanting to leave his mate long enough to cook a proper meal. It felt like it cost him something just to climb out of bed and pull on enough clothes to be decent when the food arrived; he would’ve preferred to keep licking his own come out of his mate’s cunt.

They ate in bed, which Armitage did not usually allow, but it was a special occasion. For some reason, Armitage had pulled on his robe (the bigger one Ben gave him last week), though he didn’t bother to close it. He let Ben have a bite of his tiingilar, which was so spicy that it made Ben’s eyes water and his nose burn. That was the whole point.

“That’s the hetikles,” Armitage said, while Ben fumbled for a glass of water on the bedside table. “Translates to ‘noseburn.’ One of the four qualities most prized in Mandalorian cooking.”

“I feel like that explains a lot about Mandalorians,” Ben said.

Armitage huffed a laugh, and then grimaced. Ben recognized that look. Often, after Armitage came, his belly tensed with contractions, strong enough that he had to pause and breathe through them.

“Big one?” Ben asked, when it seemed to have passed.

“No worse than before.” Armitage sounded unhappy about it. With a sigh, he slumped back against the mound of pillows supporting him. “Stars, I just want this over with.”

“It hasn’t even been a day,” Ben reminded him. “I’ve got the rest of the weekend to get you going.”

Armitage didn’t brighten. “I never thought I’d actually be impatient to go into labor,” he said. “But here we are.”

Ben hummed in agreement. It felt strange to be concerned about Armitage going overdue, rather than going into labor too early. “Well,” he said after a moment. “Maz did say this one would be stubborn.”

***

“Which brand do we usually get?” Teo asked. He was holding two bricks of bantha butter, one packaged in gold-colored foil and the other in bright blue.

“The blue one,” Poppy said wisely. Then she paused. “I think.”

Teo shrugged and tossed the blue box into the cart. Ben hoped Poppy knew what she was talking about, because he wasn’t sure, either.

Two weeks before Life Day, it was time to begin shopping for the big family dinner. Armitage usually preferred to do this himself, but despite Ben’s best efforts, he was still pregnant, and leaving the house would require changing out of his sweatpants and robe. Instead, he wrote up a long list and sent Ben off with the kids.

This excursion was only for nonperishable items and anything that would be frozen; they’d make another trip a few days before the holiday, which promised to be a headache and a half. The shops would only get more crowded.

Armitage and Ben usually hosted the Life Day gathering at their home—partly because Armitage preferred to cook in his own kitchen, and partly because he liked the authority that came with hosting.

This year, however, Ben knew they had to make alternate arrangements. Hosting a group of about twenty people in their home was stressful even when Armitage wasn’t heavily pregnant. There was also a real possibility that they would have a newborn by the time Life Day arrived.

Eventually, Armitage agreed to move the gathering to Han and Leia’s house, though he still intended to do most of the cooking. It was a tradition he was unwilling to abandon, regardless of his personal circumstances.

They had been married only a few months when Life Day rolled around, their first together. In an effort to impress Ben’s family, who still regarded him with caution if not outright suspicion, Armitage prepared an elaborate meal. Ben thought he went overboard, but it turned out to be a good call.

Not only had Ben married a chef—he had married a chef who actually _wanted_ to cook for the whole family. Halfway through the meal, it seemed to dawn on Rey that she could look forward to this every Life Day and that was in her best interest for Ben and Armitage to stay married.

While Ben was growing up, Han was the cook in their family. Leia did not know how to cook and never cared to learn. Rey was enthusiastic but consistently terrible in the kitchen. (The whole family breathed a sigh of relief when they found out Rose was a competent cook. Otherwise, Rey would’ve continued to live off rehydrated rations and her own dubious culinary experiments.)

Ben prepared most of his own family’s meals, including the lunches that the kids took to school. He enjoyed it more often than not. But Armitage refused to let him help on Life Day, on the grounds that Ben cooked enough during the rest of the year and should get a day off.

Armitage also spent his days slaving over a stove, of course, under more stressful conditions than Ben faced. But he took obvious pleasure in planning and preparing a lavish holiday meal; Ben didn’t have the heart to deny him. This was what Armitage loved and what he did best.

The menu changed from year to year (Armitage planned it a couple of months in advance), but there were certain staples, like the Almakian apple pie that Teo and Poppy liked so much. Guests were permitted to bring a side dish or dessert.

Ben and the kids made their way through the store, ticking items off Armitage’s list one by one. The bantha rump had to be a particular size and cut. Armitage planned to make pie crusts and bread rolls this week, to be frozen and baked later. They needed an assortment of other staple items, in large enough quantities to cook for twenty people.

When at last they were done, the cart was almost overflowing, and all the checkout lanes were full. Ben picked a lane at random and settled in to wait. It would be a while, he guessed, based on how slowly and methodically the cashier was working.

“I’m hungry,” Poppy complained, leaning against the cart.

“We’ll pick something up on the way home,” Ben said. He didn’t want to cook tonight, not after unloading about half a ton of groceries. He’d have to comm Armitage in the speeder and find out what he wanted. “Where’d your brother go?”

“I don’t know,” Poppy said as she breezed over to a nearby rack of holozines.

The holozines glowed, cycling through the top stories. Ben paused, squinting, when a familiar face caught his eye.

A severe-looking Brendol glowered at him from the front page of _Beings Holozine._ He looked even worse than the last time Ben saw him, sort of splotchy and bloated, his hair more white than red. The headline made Ben grit his teeth.

_BRENDOL HUX SPEAKS OUT: ‘I have never met my grandchildren,’ says estranged father._

Apparently Brendol had done another interview. Wonderful. A subtitle promised salacious details about the “inner workings” of the Alderaanian royal family, as well was information about the new baby, which Brendol certainly did not possess. That never stopped him from talking, however.

Ben couldn’t guess whether or not Armitage had knew about this interview already, but he would find out for sure soon enough. If he returned home and found his husband on the verge of a meltdown, that was a sure sign.

While Ben had mostly perfected his ability to ignore what was written about them, Armitage was terrible at not looking, especially where Brendol was concerned. Last week, he watched a holonews segment speculating that they were expecting twins, which he found deeply demoralizing.

They had yet to make any announcements, but at this point, it didn’t really matter. Armitage was almost nine months pregnant and looked it. He’d been spotted in public frequently enough that there was a photographic record of him getting bigger in recent months, splashed all over the HoloNet.

Poppy picked up the holozine with a curious frown and held it daintily, by the edges, as if it were unclean.

“I’m not paying for that,” Ben warned.

“I’m just looking,” she said quickly, and swiped her finger across the front page to bring up the article.

“You know that nothing he says is true, right?” Ben asked in a low voice. Poppy was generally aware of Brendol, of course, and had an understanding of his relationship with Armitage. But media coverage complicated matters. It could be confusing to kids; Ben knew from experience. “There’s a reason why your dad’s never let him meet you.”

“Never let who meet us?” Teo reappeared with a family-sized bag of shroomchips—decidedly not on their list—which he placed on the conveyor belt with the rest of their groceries. Then he raised his eyebrows at the holozine in Poppy’s hands. “He’s talking to magazines again?”

“Look, it’s us,” Poppy said, scrolling to the next page.

Sure enough, there was a spread of new holos of the four of them, taken outside a restaurant in Emita last weekend. Ben had no idea they were being photographed, which was unlike him. Normally he sensed when someone was watching them, the merest shiver in the Force. He needed to pay closer attention.

Suppressing a sigh, Ben took the holomagazine from Poppy and placed it back on the rack. When he turned to the cashier—a female Togorian whose short fur was brown and white—didn’t seem to know quite where to look. She glanced between the holozine rack and Ben, as if debating whether she should say something.

“You don’t recognize me,” Ben said, with a wave of his hand. He always told the kids it was impolite to use mind tricks on people, but he also made occasional exceptions.

The cashier’s expression relaxed, and her yellow eyes took on a glazed look. “I don’t recognize you,” she repeated.

“The second we leave, you’ll forget you ever saw us.”

“The second you leave, I’ll forget I ever saw you,” the Togorian said in a dull voice, and commenced scanning their groceries.

It was a relief to get out of the store at last. Per Armitage’s request, they stopped for shaak and cheese sandwiches. The smell of melted Byss cheese filled the speeder, making Ben wish they were already home.

When they were halfway there, Teo gasped. “Dad,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “We forgot the boontaspice.”

Ben had to take a deep breath. Then he turned the speeder around.

***

Ben woke to the now-familiar sounds of his mate grunting and huffing as he maneuvered out of bed. The mattress creaked and dipped; then Armitage paused, as if bracing himself.

It was Life Day, and despite their best efforts, Armitage was still pregnant. Due in two days, he was so uncomfortable that Ben could feel it through their bond. His doctor had already scheduled an induction for next week, which Ben knew Armitage was dreading.

“It’s early,” Ben mumbled. Without peeling his eyes open, he reached for Armitage, brushing his fingers along his mate’s lower back. “You should sleep.”

“We need to head over to the house.” Armitage sounded exhausted but undeterred. He gently shook Ben’s shoulder. “Come on—up you get.”

Ben rolled onto his back with a groan. “You really don’t have to do this,” he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. “We can stay home.”

Armitage narrowed his eyes. “And let Poe take over?” he asked darkly. “He’s been trying to get his foot in the door for years, and I’ll be damned if—” He stopped short when his comm chimed. Armitage picked it up off the bedside table. “Oh, look. It’s your mother again.”

It was six in the morning, which was early even by Leia’s standards. “What’d she say?”

“‘Happy Life Day. How are you feeling?’” Armitage’s voice was flat. “About the fifteenth time she’s asked this week.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“She just wants to know if the baby’s coming.” He put his comm back on the table without replying to the message. “It would be less irritating if she’d ask directly instead of dancing around the subject.”

Ben pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Well,” he said. “I really think the baby’s coming soon.”

“Soon,” Armitage replied wearily. “But not today.”

“You smell different,” Ben insisted. Ripe. Armitage had never smelled quite like this before—but then again, he’d never been this heavily pregnant. It was all new territory. Ben couldn’t be sure what it meant.

“Well, I don’t feel any different,” Armitage said with a sigh. He gripped the edge of the mattress and then carefully eased himself out of bed, huffing. He stretched a little, one hand braced against his lower back. “I need to shower. Will you wake the kids?”

Normally, Teo and Poppy woke around midmorning on Life Day, to the smell of whatever Armitage was cooking. They didn’t appreciate being woken up before seven. Yawning and muttering complaints, they dragged themselves out of bed.

Armitage had been cooking and baking all week, more than he usually did in preparation for Life Day. There was an urgency to his activities; he seemed to have channeled his nesting instincts into preparing unreasonable quantities of food. Their deep freezer was full of meals that Ben would be able to pop in the oven after they brought the baby home and they were all too exhausted to cook.

When they arrived at Han and Leia’s home at half past eight, it took a few trips to cart all the food into the kitchen. The tastefully-decorated Life Day tree glowed in one corner, gifts for the kids arranged underneath. Threepio was bustling around, predictably stressed.

“The guests won’t be here for hours, Threepio,” Leia was telling him. In the dining room, the long table they used only for big gatherings was already set, one less thing that needed to be done. “We have plenty of time to finish setting up. You can relax.”

“I’m afraid relaxation is not part of my programming,” Threepio said fretfully, and went back to fussing over the centerpieces, which Armitage had designed.

Leia and Ben exchanged a look, both of them trying not to laugh too openly at the poor protocol droid. Threepio did his best.

“Any signs yet?” Leia asked Armitage, who visibly gritted his teeth.

“Not since the last time you asked,” he said, with a kind of forced politeness, and kept walking into the kitchen. He was rubbing at his lower back with one hand, like it hurt.

Then Leia glanced at Ben and dropped her voice. “You’re sure this is a good idea? He smells different. I think he’s close.”

Ben shook his head. “I tried to tell him, but you know Armitage.”

“Keep him from overworking himself, at least.”

“Easier said than done,” Ben muttered.

Teo edged around them on his way to the kitchen. “Happy Life Day, Grandma,” he said, stifling a yawn. His arms were full of bags, so he couldn’t return Leia’s hug, but he bent down a little so she could kiss him on the cheek.

Ben remembered how Leia used to scoop Teo up and walk around with him balanced on her hip, babbling to him in Alderaanian. But that was years ago, when he was a toddler. Now Teo was a head taller than his grandmother.

Teo was Armitage’s designated helper this morning. The rest of them weren’t technically allowed in the kitchen until noon, so as not to get underfoot, but that rarely stopped anyone from popping in to snag drinks from the fridge, especially not Rey. They typically ate the Life Day meal earlier than a normal dinner, around four in the afternoon, and then grazed on the leftovers for the rest of the night.

Rey and Rose turned up around ten, their arms full of wrapped gifts. By that time, good smells were wafting out of the kitchen, and Han had emerged from the garage to watch the Annual SecBowl with Poppy and Ben.

Once she had shoved the presents under the tree, Rey barged into the kitchen. Ben trailed after her. They found Armitage and Teo working at opposite ends of the long counter. On the stove, all burners were occupied.

“Armie! You look ready to have a baby,” Rey crowed. She stood on her toes to embrace him: carefully, mindful of his belly. “When are you due again?”

“The day after tomorrow,” Armitage said in a dull voice.

“You must be getting so uncomfortable!”

“Can’t imagine where you got that idea from,” Armitage muttered as extricated himself from Rey’s arms.

“Do you need anything? Should you sit down? I can—”

“I’m perfectly all right, Rey.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” When Rey reached for a plate of buttersweet puffs cooling on the counter, he swatted her hand, casually, the way he might do with one of the kids. She looked scandalized. “What?”

“You can have some when I set them out, and not a moment before,” he said. “You know how this works.”

Rey shot Ben a plaintive look, but there was nothing he could do. They all knew the schedule: There would be snacks around noon, to hold them over until the proper meal. Until then, they simply had to be patient.

“Should he sit down?” Rey asked as they left the kitchen, touching Ben’s elbow. Her brow was creased with concern. “I feel like he should sit down.”

“What are you so worried about?” Ben asked.

“I’m worried that your husband is going to give birth on the kitchen floor, or something unappetizing like that,” she said grimly.

“You know the baby doesn’t just fall out, right? There’s a whole process—”

Rey huffed. “That’s not the point. I can’t believe you’re letting him work so hard on Life Day, when he’s pregnant out to here,” she said, gesturing to roughly a foot in front of her, which was a slight exaggeration.

“I couldn’t stop him! I tried,” Ben insisted.

More guests arrived over the next two hours: Chewie and his family, Paige and Jess, Lando, Wedge and Luke. The Damerons turned up just before noon, their astromech rolling at their feet, just as Teo was carting platters of snack foods into the front room, where everyone was gathered.

Poe did not arrive empty-handed. He always brought a couple of side dishes to share, and usually a cake or pie. Each year, Poe’s offerings were quickly devoured, which Armitage pretended not to notice.

It looked like the Damerons had brought more food than usual, Ben thought, as Idona and Sylvie toted stacks of containers into the kitchen. Poe carried a big, foil-wrapped object on a roasting pan.

“Is that… an orobird?” Ben asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Poe said blithely. “I figured Armitage might not feel up to cooking, so I thought I’d take the load off.”

“That was so thoughtful, Poe,” Leia said, touching his arm. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“Are you kidding? It’s Life Day. No trouble at all,” Poe said with a smile. “Now where can I set this bird down? It’s kind of heavy.”

A whole orobird wasn’t a side dish. It was in a different category altogether. Ben wasn’t sure how to navigate this situation, but he would have to figure something out, quickly, before it turned into an emergency.

“Poe brought an orobird,” Ben announced as they walked into the kitchen. He was attempting a light tone, but it came out a little strangled.

“He what?” Armitage was occupied at the stove, but whipped around about as quickly as someone who was nine months pregnant could. When he saw that Poe was there with Ben, he schooled his expression into a more neutral one. “Ah. Poe. Happy Life Day.”

“Red! Oh, man, look at you!” Poe grinned at Armitage and probably would’ve hugged him if his hands weren’t full. Small mercies. “No baby yet, huh?”

Armitage’s jaw twitched. “Your powers of observation are something to behold,” he deadpanned. Then he seemed to force himself to take a breath. “I wish you’d told me you were bringing an orobird. I’m afraid I have a roast in the oven, and the rest of the food is on a schedule—”

“No problem. I don’t actually need the oven,” Poe said easily. “Bird’s already cooked. It might need warmed up, but that can wait until you’re done.”

“So we’ll have twice as much food,” Armitage said in a flat voice.

“Isn’t it great?” Poe moved to set the foil-covered orobird onto the kitchen table, nudging a few other dishes out of the way. “People can just eat whichever they prefer. You know, I experimented with a different brine this year. I think you’ll like it.”

Armitage made a noncommittal noise. Ben could practically feel his mate’s blood pressure spiking, which wasn’t good for him or the baby.

When Rey called to Poe, beckoning him into the other room, Ben breathed a sigh of relief.

But as soon as Poe was out of earshot, Armitage whispered loudly, “I’m going to kill him. I swear, I’m going to kill him—”

Ben tried not to grimace. “Armitage, I think—”

“Don’t you dare say I’m making it up!” Armitage said hotly. “He planned it on purpose. Nobody accidentally brings an entire karking orobird to Life Day dinner. I knew something like this was going to happen. Any opportunity to show me up—”

It was an orobird, Ben thought, not a personal insult. But Armitage was always touchy where Poe was concerned—and this was Life Day, which Armitage looked forward to and planned for all year. On top of that, he was nine months pregnant, stewing in hormones and anxiety, more sensitive than usual. Ben had to tread carefully.

“I think,” Ben said slowly, “that this is a good time for you to take a break.”

Armitage bristled. “Ben—” he started, but broke off with a wince. He grabbed the counter to steady himself.

Ben reached for him. “Are you okay?”

“Just a cramp,” Armitage said through his teeth. “It’s nothing.”

“That didn’t look like nothing.”

“I’ve been having practice contractions for weeks. You know that.”

“At some point, it stops being practice,” Ben reminded him. “If this is the real thing—”

Armitage scowled. “I know what labor feels like, Ben. This is not labor.”

Ben suppressed a sigh. “Either way, you’re working too hard. I know your back’s killing you by now,” he said, giving his husband a knowing look. When they got home tonight, he’d draw Armitage a bath and massage his back and feet after. “Sit down for a few minutes and eat something. I’ll keep an eye on the food.”

Reluctantly, Armitage agreed to take a break in the sitting room. Poppy was demolishing Han and Lando in a game of sabacc, and she probably wasn’t even using the Force to cheat. Since he wasn’t needed in the kitchen at the moment, Teo was glued to his comm, messaging Aola. She was visiting family on Ryloth for the holiday.

The rest of their family and friends were watching the SecBowl and chatting while they grazed on the snacks Teo had set out earlier.

While Ben monitored the food still cooking, he also kept an eye on Armitage, looking for any signs of discomfort or distress. Rey had made space for Armitage on one of the couches, so Ben could see him through the doorway, seated next to Rose.

Rose asked, “So do you guys have a name picked out?”

“We haven’t settled on one,” Armitage replied.

On Arkanis, it was considered bad luck to name a baby before the birth—tempting fate or something like that. Though Armitage wasn’t a superstitious person, he preferred not to take chances where their children were concerned.

“I have a short list, but it’s not being taken into consideration,” Poppy said with a sniff.

“We don’t even get a vote,” Teo complained. “Seems kind of unfair.”

Armitage snorted. “When we brought Poppy home from the medcenter, you wanted call her ‘Mepple,’ because it was your favorite food at the time.”

“I remember that,” Rey said, grinning. “You were heartbroken when your dad said she already had a name.”

“I was four,” Teo protested. “I have much better taste now. I would pick a completely different fruit—” He paused. “Are you okay, Dad?”

“Of course.” Armitage’s voice sounded a little thin, at least to Ben’s ears. “Perfectly fine. Now, which fruit would you pick, exactly, if you were going to choose one?”

For a little while, Ben half-listened to them jokingly debate food-based names. He paid closer attention to Armitage, who looked tense and was shifting uncomfortably who appeared to be breathing normally. Maybe it was just a practice contraction.

Armitage eased himself carefully off the couch and disappeared into the ‘fresher for a few minutes. He waddled into the kitchen, one hand braced against his lower back, as Ben was checking on the topatoes. It was a little after one in the afternoon.

“I can take it from here,” Ben told him. “Really. Food’s practically done.”

Rolling his eyes, Armitage said, “You sound like Dopheld. I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“No, but—”

“I feel useless, sitting around. I can’t stand the smell out there—”

“What smell?” Ben asked.

“All those alphas packed into one room! The stench is unbearable,” Armitage said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Can’t you smell them?”

Not as strongly as his mate could, apparently. Strange: Even while pregnant, Armitage wasn’t usually so affected by the scent of unrelated alphas. Ben paused, studying him. “Are you still having cramps?”

“If there’s anything worth reporting, I’ll tell you. No need to badger me,” Armitage snapped. “Now will you let me get back to work?”

In the end, Ben surrendered and stepped out of the kitchen, not wanting to upset his mate. He returned to the sitting room, but he kept stealing glances at Armitage, watching him putter around in a way that looked almost like pacing.

Poppy won her game of sabacc. Teo had put his comm away for the time being and was discussing the upcoming Boonta Eve Classic with Luke. The SecBowl was entering its final quarter, which caught the attention of most guests, but Ben’s mind was elsewhere.

It was almost two in the afternoon when Armitage called, in a strained voice, “Ben, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure.” Ben rose and went into the kitchen. He found Armitage leaning against the back of a chair, almost doubled over, pale and breathing hard through his nose.

Ben hurried to him, reaching out with the Force in search of the cause of his distress. “What’s going on?”

“My waters broke,” Armitage whispered.

“What?” Ben bleated, loudly enough that Armitage shushed him. His mind was spinning. “When? Are you sure? You said you weren’t in labor—”

“I didn’t think I was!” Armitage hissed, through clenched teeth. He looked annoyed, but then his face crumpled and his body tensed with another hard cramp. “I thought they were practice contractions, but they’ve been getting stronger.”

“We’re going to the medcenter,” Ben said decisively. This wasn’t how he had pictured the day would go, and certainly not what Armitage had envisioned, but it was happening. “Right now.”

Armitage squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t make a scene,” he said in a low voice. “I just want—”

“Who spilled water all over the floor?”

Ben and Armitage looked up in time to see Poppy breeze into the kitchen. She stepped around a spatter of clear liquid on the tile and reached into the fridge for a bottle of pink fruit fizz.

There was more fluid than Ben had realized—enough to run down Armitage’s legs and onto the floor. He must’ve felt a gush and moved to the nearest chair to steady himself while he rode out the contraction.

After closing the fridge, Poppy paused with the bottle lifted partway to her mouth. “Are you all right?” she asked slowly, brow furrowed, looking between her parents.

Ben cleared his throat. “Well. The baby might be coming,” he said at last, awkwardly. “So—”

“Like, right now?” Poppy’s eyes were wide and alarmed.

“No, no,” Armitage said. His voice was tight. “These things take a while. We really can’t be sure—” He broke off, wincing.

“Did you say the baby’s coming?” Rey poked her head into the kitchen, as if she’d sensed an interesting conversation through the Force.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Whether Armitage went into labor on his own or had to be induced, they hadn’t planned to tell anyone but the kids until they were already at the medcenter.

“Rey,” Ben said with a sigh, but it was too late.

“I can’t believe she’s going to be a Life Day baby. Oh, how fun!” Rey said gleefully. Her eyes practically sparkled. “We’ll get to do her birthday party _and_ Life Day at the same time—”

Her voice was loud enough to cause an immediate commotion. Suddenly, everyone in the other room was talking at once, voices overlapping, excited. Ben and Armitage exchanged grim looks.

Teo appeared at the door, practically elbowing Rey out of the way. He looked petrified. “What about the baby?”

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Armitage said in a voice that was only a little unsteady. “But I’ll need you to finish up for me here—”

“I knew you were close,” Leia said. Teo and Rey both shuffled out of her way when she appeared. “This morning, I had a feeling today would be the day.”

“Yes, well.” Armitage’s jaw tightened, and Ben wasn’t sure if he was just annoyed or if he was having another contraction. Ben placed a steadying hand on his lower back. “We need to be going.”

“Just the two of you?” Leia asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah. Like we talked about before,” Ben reminded her. When Armitage went into labor with Teo, half his family was crammed into the waiting room. It made the process more stressful for Armitage, who was keenly aware of his in-laws waiting for him to have the baby. They weren’t doing that again this time. Childbirth was not a spectator sport. “I’ll update you.”

Poppy’s shoulders drooped, put out at being left behind. Previously, she’d asked if she could be present for the birth. Armitage was touched by her enthusiasm, but ultimately decided that he didn’t want her to see him in such a state. If there were complications, he didn’t want her in the room.

Ben attempted to steer Armitage toward the door, but his mate had stopped to rattle off instructions to Teo.

“Most of the food is done,” he was saying. “You just have to make sure it all stays warm.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“The roast can come out of the oven in about twenty minutes. Let it rest while you put the casserole in.”

“I know.”

“There’s a checklist on the counter, so you don’t forget anything.”

“Dad, seriously, I’ve got it,” Teo said.

“Right,” Armitage said, somewhat reluctantly. Though he appeared outwardly calm, Ben could sense a humming anxiety under his skin. “Well, then.” He kissed each of the kids on the forehead. “Enjoy your Life Day. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Teo hesitated, then pulled Armitage into a brief, gentle hug. “Love you, too.”

***

In an ideal world, Armitage would prefer to have the baby at home, probably in their bed. It was a common (if somewhat old-fashioned) choice among healthy omegas, never possible for him.

But as far as Ben could tell, the private birthing suites at Emita General Medcenter were the next best thing. The room was spacious and softly lit, done up in warm colors. The couch pulled into a bed, and in the refresher, there was a deep jetted tub and separate shower. It was the kind of place where a human omega could labor peacefully.

Armitage was four centimeters dilated when they arrived; he’d probably been in early labor for most of the morning. Now things were well underway.

A human nurse suggested that Armitage try to get some sleep while he still could, but he was restless and uncomfortable, pacing around between contractions. Sometimes he leaned against a wall for support, or the bed, or Ben.

Time passed at a floating pace. Through their bond, Ben sensed his mate’s anxiety, spiking along with his pain. Part of Armitage was excited that the baby was coming; the rest of him was a knot of tension. He wouldn’t feel truly at ease until he had the baby in his arms.

“Hey,” Ben said quietly, while Armitage leaned on him during another contraction.

“What?” Armitage sounded distracted, his focus inward. He swayed a little on the spot, circling his hips. It seemed to help.

“We’re having a baby.”

That made Armitage smile, just a little. “About time,” he muttered. “But I don’t really want to have her on Life Day.”

“How come?”

“Her birthday will get absorbed into the holiday,” Armitage said mournfully. He dropped his head against Ben’s shoulder and groaned a little as the contraction peaked. “It won’t be special for her.”

“We’ll make it special,” Ben promised, and kissed his mate’s temple.

Assuming she came before midnight, of course. It was hard to gauge how much longer it would take. Armitage had a long labor with Teo, and a quick one with Poppy. Third babies were supposed to come even faster, but there was no telling for sure.

Nurses and droids cycled in and out of the room periodically, running scans and checking dilation. The process was more peaceful this time than before, Ben thought. The baby wasn’t premature. Armitage was in good health. There was no emergency. Ben wanted to pinch himself, almost, because it seemed too normal to be real.

The contractions were getting closer together and more intense as the sun dipped lower. To help his mate cope, Ben rubbed his back or squeezed his hips, applying steady pressure. He brought Armitage ice chips to suck on, and held a cool cloth against the back of his neck, and helped him change position as he felt the urge. Alternately kneeling and squatting helped to open Armitage’s pelvis.

After a couple of hours, Armitage decided to labor in the tub for a while. This was never an option during previous labors, when he and the baby needed continuous monitoring, so he was curious about how much it might help his pain.

Ben helped Armitage peel off the thin, pale blue medical gown while a medidroid filled the tub, then supported him with both hands while he climbed in.

The hot water seemed to give Armitage immediate relief. Even without using the Force, Ben could tell that the heat relaxed him and the water eased some of the strain on his body. Ben used a detachable shower head to spray warm water over his mate’s back, while Armitage leaned over the side of the tub, breathing.

“Does that feel okay?” Ben asked.

Armitage hummed. “Feels great,” he mumbled. “Is there a higher setting?”

Ben fiddled with the shower head until the spray was stronger, like a hard rain. He aimed at his mate’s lower back, where he sensed the pain was most intense, and Armitage groaned in relief.

They stayed like that for more than an hour. When he reached out through the Force, through their bond, Ben could feel the edge of Armitage’s pain. The constant dull ache in his lower back sharpened with each contraction, like a knife digging into his spine. There was a hard, rhythmic tightening in his belly. He couldn’t keep quiet during the contractions anymore; low grunts and moans escaped him.

During the other labors, Armitage was adamant that he didn’t want any medicated pain relief—no epidural, no opioids, no gas and air. That was the plan this time, as well. He wanted to get through this ordeal himself. It was important to him. But just like during the previous births, Ben hated to see him in so much pain.

“I forgot how much this hurts,” Armitage said through his teeth, after another contraction had peaked, the pain easing for a moment like a receding tide. He was breathing harder than before.

“I can help,” Ben told him. “You know—take the edge off.”

“No, no—” Armitage was shaking his head. He knew that Ben was talking about using the Force to blunt his pain. “I don’t need it.”

“But—”

“I’m not that weak, Ben.”

“You’re not weak at all,” Ben said, and he meant it. After watching Armitage endure three tough pregnancies and now three labors, Ben knew that his mate was both mentally and physically strong. “But you don’t have to suffer.”

“I can take it,” Armitage insisted, though his voice was tight.

Part of Ben wanted to protest. But he’d promised to support Armitage during labor, and that meant helping him have the experience he wanted. He dimmed the lights, then knelt beside the tub, where Armitage could see him.

“Look at me,” he murmured, and Armitage lifted his face. Ben kissed him on the forehead, the top of his cheek, his bare, damp shoulder. “You’re doing so well.”

When he felt Armitage tense with another contraction, Ben opened his senses and shared in his mate’s pain: not taking it for himself, but letting it pass over him and through him.

“Deep breath,” Ben reminded him, gently. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Nice and slow. That’s it, just like that…”

They breathed together through that contraction, and the one that followed, and the one after that. After a while, Armitage dropped his head against the lip of the tub and gripped Ben’s hands, hard, as if to anchor himself.

When Armitage said he was ready, Ben helped him out of the tub and toweled him off, carefully. Then he stepped out of the ‘fresher so Armitage could put on a fresh gown and use the toilet in peace.

His comm was beeping insistently. It was Rey, he saw, and the little red priority icon was flashing. She wanted to initiate a holocomm. He had multiple missed comms from her number. Worried something had happened to one of the kids, Ben answered.

Rey’s face appeared on the small screen. “Ben!” she said cheerfully. In the background, other voices overlapped, and the Life Day tree glowed behind her. “Finally! I’ve been calling and calling, but you haven’t picked up.”

“I’ve been a little busy,” Ben told her. There was no emergency, he realized; Rey just wanted him to answer the comm. Diabolical little sister.

“Well, how’s it going?”

“Fine. He’s progressing.”

“Mom wants to know how dilated he is.”

Of course she did, Ben thought wearily. But Armitage had made him promise not to share any details about his vagina with the rest of the family.

“I’m not sure. It’s been a while since they checked,” Ben said, which wasn’t technically a lie. At the last exam, Armitage was about five centimeters dilated—halfway there. He was probably further along by now.

Just then, Armitage waddled out of the ‘fresher. He wore a fresh medical gown and his skin was still pink from the heat of the bath. Out of the water, he looked more uncomfortable than before. “Who are you talking to?”

“Is that Armie?” Rey asked. “Turn me around so I can say hello!”

Ben did no such thing. Armitage was disheveled and wearing a flimsy blue medical gown; he wouldn’t want Rey to see him in such a state. “Rey commed,” he said to Armitage.

Armitage’s eyes widened. “What time is it?” he asked, approaching the couch. “Did Teo take the roast out?”

“Yes, ages ago. Right when he was supposed to. He had everything under control,” Rey said. She couldn’t see Armitage, but she’d heard him. “We’ve eaten and cleaned up, and now we’re getting ready to open presents.”

“How was the food?” Armitage demanded.

“Oh, it was great. Poe’s orobird was delicious. We saved you some.”

That made Armitage’s expression darken.

Ben swallowed, apprehensive. “Rey,” he said, glancing at the screen. “I’ve got to go. Tell the kids everything is fine. I’ll comm you later.”

He disconnected before she could protest.

***

It was full dark outside when Armitage reached seven centimeters, which Ben knew from past experience was the beginning of the most painful stage. The contractions were rolling together now, one after another, with barely a break in between.

“I can’t do this,” Armitage moaned. He was on his hands and knees in bed, breathing hard. Uncomfortable and overheated, he’d ripped off the gown and now wore only a stretchy black bra. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Ben assured him. He placed a hand on his mate’s bare back; Armitage’s skin was tacky with sweat. “You’ve done this twice before, and you always got through it—”

“It wasn’t this hard before!” Armitage cried out as the contraction peaked; Ben could feel him shaking, his whole body clenched against the pain. “Can you—I need—”

Through their bond, through the Force, Ben sensed what his mate was asking for. He kneaded at the base of Armitage’s spine, where the pain was most intense; the counterpressure seemed to make it easier to bear.

Ben’s world narrowed to his mate’s breathing, the smell of his sweat, the trembling of his body. If he reached out, he could feel not only Armitage’s heartbeat, but their daughter’s: the echo of it, reverberating through his own chest.

“You’re doing so well,” Ben murmured. “I know it’s hard. You’re almost done.”

“Ben—” It came out like a plea. Armitage was rocking his hips a little, as if to work the baby lower. He radiated pain.

“I’m right here.” Ben kept rubbing his mate’s back, steady and firm. “Soon, she’s going to be here, too.”

***

Minutes and hours blurred together, dreamlike. Ben wasn’t sure what time it was when Armitage gripped his arm and said the baby was coming—really coming—only that it was late.

At some point, Armitage had also ripped off the bra and flung it aside, modesty forgotten. Ben wasn’t sure where the bra went, or even exactly when it came off. None of the medical staff batted an eye as they bustled around; apparently, this was perfectly normal behavior for a laboring human.

Armitage was sprawled on his side in bed, fully nude, too exhausted to change position, so the human doctor put one hand behind his knee and held his leg up while she examined him. He barely seemed to notice the intrusion of her gloved hand.

Harter Kalonia happened to be one of the OBs on shift; an older human woman, she was a friend of Leia’s. Ben didn’t know her well, but he was glad their baby would be delivered by someone they’d already met, rather than a total stranger.

“Push when you’re ready,” Kalonia said to Armitage. She had a calm voice, and the corners of her eyes crinkled a little when she smiled. “I think you’ll remember how.”

From his place beside the bed (as close as he could get without actually climbing onto it), Ben only had to crane his neck a little to see between Armitage’s legs. But for now, he just focused on Armitage.

“Almost there,” Ben said, kissing his mate’s temple. Despite the pain, Armitage managed a smile, before another contraction made his face crumple.

Armitage’s thighs tensed and trembled as he pushed. Low grunting noises escaped him; he gripped one of Ben’s hands between both of his, hard enough to bruise, but Ben barely noticed how much it hurt.

The baby was coming quickly. After just a few pushes, Ben watched in amazement as his mate’s cunt bloomed around the top of her head: wet and dark. He saw both of his other children born, of course, but it never seemed less miraculous to him.

“She’s got dark hair,” Ben reported, laughing a little in surprise. Their other children were redheads, like their father. “A lot of it.”

“What?” Armitage sounded a little dazed. He was red-faced and sweating, his breath coming in gulps, a few strands of coppery hair plastered to his forehead.

“Baby’s head is crowning,” Kalonia told him. “Would you like to feel?”

She guided Armitage’s hand between his thighs. When he felt the top of the baby’s head, he gasped, in shock or astonishment. “Oh,” he said, on an exhale. His eyes looked damp. “Ben—she’s right there—”

Ben leaned in to kiss his mate’s damp forehead. “I love you,” he said, chest aching, lips moving against Armitage’s skin. The words didn’t seem big enough, but they were all he had. “Stars, I love you—”

Kalonia was encouraging Armitage to push again; grimacing, he did. Ben looked up in time to see Kalonia help ease the baby’s head the rest of the way out.

Armitage stretched beautifully as he continued to push, his whole body trembling with the effort. One little shoulder slipped out, and then the other.

There was a moment when the world seemed to float, the two of them gripping each other’s hands, breathing the same breath.

The mate bond hummed between them, bright and unbreakable. Then Armitage pushed again—and all at once, their baby was born into Kalonia’s hands. It happened so smoothly that, for a second, Ben couldn’t react.

“Female,” Kalonia said, immediately lifting the baby onto Armitage’s bare chest. The cord was still connecting them. “Congratulations.”

Armitage looked about as stunned as Ben felt, but his hands came up automatically to hold the baby in place, cradling her against him as he rolled onto his back.

The little girl coughed, and then she screamed.

She was chubby and purple and covered in blood. Ben couldn’t believe how beautiful she was.

A nurse reached over to wipe off some of the blood and fluid, while a medidroid ran a series of scans. Ben heard its calm, mechanical voice saying something about “all results within normal tolerances,” but he already knew the baby would be perfect.

“Ben. Ben, look at her—” Armitage was laughing and sobbing at the same time, and Ben knew the feeling, because it was surging through him, too. It was all so much. More than he could’ve imagined. “She looks like you.”

“Another one cursed with my ears,” Ben said, which made Armitage smile.

“I happen to like your ears,” Armitage replied, as the droid laid a blanket over him and the baby, to keep them both warm. He sniffed, loudly, and Ben could see that he was weeping a little, eyes wet.

Ben knew he was doing the same as he leaned over to kiss his mate’s temple, and then the top of the baby’s head, careless of the blood and fluid. Some of his tears were soon added to the mix. “I knew you could do it,” he said. “I’m so proud of you—”

The baby wailed louder, surprising them both. Her hands were clenched into little fists, moving against Armitage’s collarbone. Armitage kissed her soft, wrinkled forehead, shushing her. “I know, darling,” he said tearfully. “But it’s not so bad out here, I promise…”

Ben laid a hand over the baby’s back; his hand was big enough, or her body small enough, that he covered her almost completely. He could feel her breathing, the vibration of her cries. She was already pinking up.

Just this morning, he’d felt her kicking inside Armitage’s belly. Now she was here. He almost couldn’t believe it. They’d waited so long to meet her—not just the long months that Armitage carried her, but the decade and a half before that, when they’d longed for another child but never really believed they could have one.

Ben glanced up at the chronometer on the wall. His eyes widened. It was a few minutes to midnight. They’d been at the medcenter for about nine hours—somehow, both less and more time than Ben would’ve thought.

“Armitage,” he said with a huff. “Looks like we got our Life Day present.”

***

When the time came, Ben cut the cord and Armitage delivered the afterbirth. It slipped out with barely a push, and then it was gone, forgotten as they marveled at the baby. The room was quiet and dim, like a little world unto itself.

They had never done this before: touched and kissed and held a baby immediately after birth. Teo had some trouble breathing; he was whisked away and they had to wait a few hours to hold him. Poppy spent long weeks in an incubator, too fragile to be removed. It felt like a gift to have this baby with them from the start.

The baby’s cries tapered off into soft little snuffles and whimpers. Her little hands unclenched, and she opened her eyes: dark and damp and blue. Ben was a blurred shape to her, just light and motion, but she seemed incredibly aware of him. It might have been the Force.

It wasn’t long before the baby began to squirm against Armitage’s chest, plainly rooting for a nipple. He carefully shifted her over and brought her to his breast. This was the part that always came easy to him, when the rest was so hard. He’d nursed Teo and Poppy for about a year each and genuinely enjoyed it. When Poppy was weaned, Armitage had cried, because he knew he would never breastfeed again.

But here they were, more than a decade later. Ben could never have imagined it. Armitage got the baby to latch on, and she settled against his breast, suckling.

A little more than an hour after the birth, when the baby was half asleep and no longer nursing, a droid helped Armitage ease out of bed and shuffle into the ‘fresher for a shower.

Ben got to hold the baby then, for the first time. He pulled off his shirt and gathered her against his chest, skin on skin, the way Armitage did. This kind of contact promoted bonding and helped her get used to his smell, or so he’d read. He draped a blanket around them and settled in the chair beside the bed.

“Hey, little one,” he said softly, while she looked up at him with those big eyes. “I’m your dad. Remember me?” He’d spent so many nights talking to Armitage’s belly, describing all the places he wanted to show her, all the fun they’d have together. He hoped she recognized his voice, even a little. “It’s so good to meet you.”

For a while, he just held her, rubbing her little back, kissing her soft, fragrant head. He still couldn’t believe how much hair she had, nor how dark it was. If he held still, he could feel her breathing. If he reached out with the Force, he could feel her heart.

“We’re going to take care of you,” Ben promised. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Okay?”

The baby yawned, eyes drooping. Reaching out gently with the Force, Ben sensed that she knew nothing but feelings of warmth and safety and sleepiness. That was enough. That was everything.

Armitage shuffled back into the room eventually, the droid supporting his arm. He was dressed in an old, loose pair of sweatpants he’d brought from home and a soft top he could unbutton for breastfeeding. He moved slowly and carefully, sore all over.

When he was settled in bed, Ben handed the baby back to him. She stirred a little, catching his already-familiar scent. Armitage opened his top and offered his breast again. The baby latched on and nursed sleepily, her tiny hands relaxed against Armitage’s chest.

Watching their baby in his arms, Armitage radiated contentment. It hummed through the bond, through Ben’s whole body, a feedback loop passing between them, endlessly.

While Armitage nursed, Ben got up to comm Rey. He stepped into the hall outside the birthing suite, which seemed almost unbearably bright compared to the peaceful dimness of the room.

Despite the late hour, she answered on the second ring. “Is she here?”

“Yeah, she’s here,” Ben said, grinning to himself. It felt so good to say. “She came a few minutes before midnight.”

“Healthy?”

“She’s perfect. Nine pounds.”

“Kriff,” Rey said, surprised. Their other babies were much smaller. Teo weighed only six pounds at birth. “How’s Armie?”

“Fine. He’s resting now. He did great,” Ben felt compelled to add, wanting her to know how strong his mate was. “Are the kids at home yet?”

“No, we’re all at the house still. Should I bring them to the medcenter?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. Is it too late for them to visit tonight?” Rey said. “It’s just that they’re so excited to meet the baby. I don’t think they’ll sleep at all.”

Ben recalled from the medcenter tour that immediate family, such as siblings and grandparents, were permitted to visit after hours. He just had to inform the nursing staff so they could be let in.

“You should’ve seen Teo,” Rey went on, in a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s been pacing around like an anxious father. It was kind of funny, actually. He’ll be so relieved.”

Ben smiled a little. “Let me ask Armitage if he’s feeling up to it,” he said.

When he stepped back into the room, the baby was still contentedly nursing. Ben sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked her hair. Somehow, he’d forgotten just how soft babies were. “Rey offered to bring the kids over,” he said.

Armitage looked up. “When? Now?”

“Yeah. Rey says they want to meet the baby.”

“It’s after midnight,” Armitage said, uncertainly.

“It’s not like they have school.” The kids had a few more days of holiday break. “But it can wait until morning, if you’re too tired.”

“No, no. I feel great,” Armitage said immediately, and Ben sensed that it was true, at least for the moment. He was brimming with happy hormones, which staved off the exhaustion. “They can come tonight. But before they get here, we should really talk about her name.”

***

Half an hour later, Ben met Rey and the kids in the waiting room. All three of them had visitor badges pinned to their shirts. It was almost two in the morning, so the kids both looked a little bleary. But Poppy was also giddy, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. The thin skin under Teo’s eyes was purple with sleeplessness. Ben knew that Teo had worried something would go wrong during the birth; he’d probably spent the rest of Life Day in a state of anxiety.

Rey hurried to embrace Ben, standing on her toes. “Congratulations!” she said.

Ben grinned. “Best Life Day present I ever got.”

By all rights, he should feel exhausted right now, dead on his feet. But like Armitage, he was feeling uncommonly good: a hormonal response.

In the early days after Teo and Poppy were born, he remembered feeling irritable and aggressive around other alphas, including Leia. It was a protective instinct, bone-deep, exacerbated by the stressful circumstances. But Rey wasn’t an alpha, so her presence didn’t set him on edge.

Rey agreed to remain in the waiting room while Teo and Poppy met their sister; she would meet the baby tomorrow afternoon, with Han and Leia and Rose. Tonight was only for the five of them to get acquainted.

“Just a quick visit tonight,” Ben said, leading the kids along the corridor. The medcenter seemed practically empty at this time of night, their footsteps echoing a little. “Your dad’s really tired. But you can come back tomorrow, if you want.”

The room was mostly dark, except for a few glowing panels around the bed, which gave off warm light. Armitage was propped up in the narrow bed, a little bundle in his arms. Poppy hurried to him, but Teo held back.

“Do you feel okay?” Teo asked in a low voice.

“I’m just fine, darling,” Armitage assured him, with a tired smile.

Teo hesitated a moment longer. Then he joined Poppy at Armitage’s bedside and leaned closer to get a look at the baby. She was awake again, blinking. Ben had wrapped her in a little blanket, but she’d already freed one chubby arm.

“This is Imogene,” Armitage said. “Your little sister.”

It was one of a handful of names that Ben and Armitage had tossed around during the pregnancy. Only after she was born did they agree that it suited their baby. Her Royal Highness Princess Imogene of Aldera.

Poppy reached out and delicately stroked the top of the baby’s head. “She’s cute,” she said. Then she glanced up at Ben, smiling. “You were right—she feels the same.”

For months, Poppy had gotten to know her sister rather well: She was always putting her hands to Armitage’s belly and feeling her kick, or reaching out with the Force to sense her presence.

Imogene’s presence in the Force was the same now as it was when she was inside Armitage. The only difference was Poppy could now see and touch her directly.

“She’s so little,” Teo said, astonished. He hadn’t stopped staring at Imogene: her dark, liquid eyes and her rosebud mouth. “I mean, I knew she’d be small. But…”

“Would you like to hold her?” Armitage asked, cautiously hopeful.

Teo looked up. “Can I?”

Armitage blinked, like he hadn’t expected Teo to actually be interested. “Of course,” he said. “Here, have a seat—”

Teo perched on the edge of the bed. He looked a little frightened when Armitage eased the baby into his arms, settling her head into the crook of his elbow. Imogene whined and scrunched up her face, probably at her brother’s unfamiliar smell.

“Hi, baby,” Teo said, his voice uncertain. He was looking intently at her, and Ben suspected he was scared of afraid that he would do something wrong.

Imogene’s hands curled and uncurled like starfish. Teo seemed fascinated by this: how tiny and delicately-formed she was. He moved to touch her hand and gasped a little when Imogene reflexively grasped his finger.

“Oh,” Teo said, surprised. Imogene made contented little noise. A slow smile spread over his face, and his voice softened. “Hey. I’m your brother.”

Imogene was still holding his finger, tightly, and he grinned at her, eyes shiny. Poppy leaned closer, murmuring to her baby sister.

Over their heads, Ben and Armitage smiled at each other—exhausted, and grateful, and incandescently happy. Ben thought back to the night Poppy was born, and how close they’d come to losing her. He used to be sure that people only got one miracle. But somehow, the Force had given them another.

The love Ben felt for his children in that moment, all three of them, seemed almost too much for one person to contain, enough to knock him over. It was lucky that he had a mate to share in it.

While Teo and Poppy cooed over the baby, Ben dipped his head to kiss Armitage on the mouth. “Happy Life Day,” he said.

He could feel Armitage smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **next time:** the Organa-Solo family adjusts to life with a new addition. naturally, there are growing pains.
> 
> thanks for reading! feel free to visit me [on tumblr](http://gonna-pop.tumblr.com).


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